


Out of Breath

by love2imagine



Series: Out of this World [10]
Category: White Collar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2015-01-25
Packaged: 2018-02-10 18:57:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 42
Words: 255,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2036325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/love2imagine/pseuds/love2imagine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal, Mozzie, Peter, Diana and the rest try to solve a nasty mystery.</p><p>If you are not a sci-fi- type reader, who can go with the flow, probably better if you read the rest of the series first.</p><p>Original White Collar Characters and back story belong to Jeff Eastin, not me. Original story, characters and mistakes, mine.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Called to the Keep

**Author's Note:**

  * For [My readers](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=My+readers).



 

 

 

Lord Caerrovon Steel of Steel Keep was standing in his study staring at various letters and lists spread out on his desk. His man was sitting watching him.

 

“Make sense it does not, Brak!” Steel exclaimed, frustrated.

 

“Wine, Master Caerrovon?” Brak asked.

 

“Brak, I dislike wine! Why, when I am annoyed or confused do you think I suddenly will develop a taste for it?”

 

“Sorry, Master Caerrovon! I will get - ”

 

As he spoke, Shiral brought in a large tray with a pitcher of ale, a pot of tea and drinking vessels, as well as a plate of some sort of scones. She looked at her Lord with a mischievous twinkle and he, relinquishing his glower, reluctantly grinned back.

 

“That loud, was I, Shiral? Sorry! Sorry, Brak! I have no right to take my frustration at my stupidity out on my people.”

 

“Leave it alone, my Lord,” Shiral told him, “the answer is more likely to come to you than if you chase it.”

 

“You sound like Mozzie!” he said, but left the table and sat, pouring tea for himself as Brak helped himself to ale.

 

“He is very often right about such things, my Lord,” Shiral agreed, “though I often wonder if he would have said that same thing to Peter about Neal: ‘leave him, he will come to you’!”

 

Both Steel and Brak laughed, though Steel sobered a little. “I hoped those two would find some common ground.”

 

“Like your puzzle,” Shiral recommended, “leave it alone and it may sort itself out.”

 

“You have been too much with my sons and Lira,” Steel grumbled. “I shall have to make you the Keep philosopher!”

 

“Enjoy your tea, my Lord,” she said, and left.

 

“Mozzie and Neal are very bright, and have unusual ways of looking at things,” Steel pondered. “Perhaps I should ask them their opinion of this.”

 

“There may be nothing here,” Brak said. “I think these are just random events, Master Caerrovon. Have you considered that you are looking for excuses to call them here?”

 

Steel sat quiet for a moment and nodded. “There is something in what you say, but I think if Peter was here, looking at this, he would say some part of his stomach was not in good health.

         “I am going to call them, Brak.”

 

Brak gave him a Look, signifying that he had known it all along.

 

 

 ****............................***........................***

 

Mozzie and Neal happened to be together, poring over a map. “They say the ship went down around here, that’s where all the treasure hunters have concentrated their search,” Mozzie was saying.

 

“But you think they’re wrong?”

 

“No, they may be right. But they’re basing it on the tides and winds normal in the area. But if you look at Levasseur’s diary-cum-ship’s-log from the same year - ”

 

“And you found this diary where?”

 

“Well, it was in this library in Paris – but they weren’t using it, Neal! No-one will ever know it’s gone!”

 

“You just jumped in there and ‘borrowed’ this library book?”

 

“Technically, it’s reference only,” Mozzie said, earnestly, “but you know how restrictive that can be, Neal. I’ve borrowed hundreds of others and almost all of them are returned in the same condition I found them! Some even better! I love books!”

 

“Mmmhmm – oil topped up, tyres at the correct pressure, gas tank full,” Neal grinned at his friend. “And the others? The ones that haven’t been returned? Is the _Bibliothèque nationale de France_ going to send us a bill of trillions of Franks for book fines in a year or two?”

 

Mozzie chuckled. “They may not have an exact record of such withdrawals. And they’re not all from France! And I’m glad they’re Franks again, and Pounds sterling and Lira. I never did take to those Euro’s. It limits a country’s economic freedom, just the implications of not being able to devalue in relation to other currencies in time of crisis….

“Anyway, that’s all beside the main issue! Let me finish! This man was sailing off this point here,” he put his finger on the spot, “on the day the Spanish ship went down.

“Now he’s a Frenchman in a little sailing boat of no great historical interest, and his diary was only donated to the maritime library after his death - they’re Spanish, big royal interest - I don’t know, the two reports were never correlated, but he writes about a terrible storm to the South West, it pushed him off course, the winds were fierce, it blew up suddenly, his sail tore before he could furl it – anyway, look! That storm would have blown our ship much further to the east and north than they’ve been looking.”

 

“Oh, it’s ‘our ship’ now, is it?”

 

“It’s good to be positive, mon frère!”

 

“You do know we don’t need a billion in Spanish treasure?”

 

“It may be a little less, but when has need ever driven us, Neal! This is an adventure, a puzzle to be solved, a wreck to be plundered!”

 

“You’re bored.”

 

“Not bored, exactly. But you know, the ‘ _leettle grey cells’_ , they need the occasional exercise?”

 

“This sailor of yours was French! This ship is Spanish. Poirot was, as he was always telling everyone, Belgian.”

 

“Whatever – _he_ never managed to retire, did he?”

 

“He killed himself in the end, didn’t he? You should take heed...”

 

“To solve the final puzzle, mon frère. Or to force Hastings to do so. And because he was exceedingly old and frail. His death became the puzzle – perhaps I shall celebrate my extraordinary life by leaving you a fantastic puzzle to solve when the sad time comes!”

 

“Yeah, okay, Hercule!”

 

“You’d solve it, then?”

 

Neal made a face. “I would have to, Moz. Couldn’t let you win the final bout in our competition! Do not expect the same from me…I will be ‘like a mist that appeared for a little while and then vanishes’.”

 

Mozzie put his head on one side. “I prefer that version, actually, to the older ones. Or being you, you might ‘Vanish like a rush of self-consuming flame’, or ‘like vision vain’ or most likely ‘like a guilty thing’!”

 

“Hey! I don’t mind Weeks or Brontë, but that last is anonymous isn’t it? Quoting anonymous sources is weak, Moz…you could be the author!”

 

Moz grinned. “You should be so lucky!” Then he pointed. “Therefore, if my calculations are correct, we should be searching around this oval I’ve marked.”

 

“Do you have any idea how expensive mounting that sort of operation would be?”

 

“What is mere money when it comes to filling gaps in the history of the great nation of Spain?”

 

“When did you develop a love for Spanish history?”

 

“When I beheld _La mulata_ by Velázquez – the cleaned Dublin version. The light and contrast…”

 

“Not a Goya or Dali?” Neal was enjoying himself.

 

“We-ell, There are some of Goya’s…some portraits, sketches – I like _The Countess Of Chinchon_ , some others, but for someone such as myself it is best not to stare at too much so-called realism, that is, madness.

"I never liked bulls – or donkeys, you know, except very young donkeys - and while I agree we must have plucked birds and dead fish on the way to a superb meal, it is not a subject on which a great artist should waste his talents or a great mind waste his contemplation. It is the same with dismembered human corpses and terrible tortures.

"He and Dickens may have wished to bring attention to the problems of society, but I am of the school of thought that the more energy one gives a subject, the stronger it becomes. Whereas if one focuses on those aspects that one feels should expand and grow, there is a chance for beneficial change.

“It is somewhat the same with Dali, though one always feels that he was having fun and that mitigates any Spanish darkness…Picasso, too..."

Mozzie brought himself back from his artistic musings and suggested, “Neal –  I wondered if we could find a cheaper way of searching for the lost ship…?”

 

“Okay, Cousteau – now _he’s_ French! – why don’t _you_ jump in the deep end, as it were!”

 

Moz frowned just slightly. “I’ve never taken to scuba diving, not thrilled with deep, dark water in general, whereas you used to do it just to go and look at clown fish and feed sharks and other frivolous occupations.”

 

“So I’m supposed to suit up and jump into – how many hundred feet of water?”

 

“This is the man who jumped out of I don’t know how many windows and off how many bridges, out of moving vehicles and off galloping horses. If it isn’t safe, you can always jump back!”

 

“What about the bends? And since your memory is eidetic, you remember exactly how many windows and bridges and there was never a horse, it was a wagon, and I usually ended up pretty battered and my clothes were often ruined.”

 

“You’ve grown up, that’s your problem,” Mozzie accused, disgusted. “And I do remember there were more windows than in the official record, shall I say? Not involved with crimes other than Biblical ones? Since we are talking of Parisians, wasn’t there that little French woman - ?”

 

“How did you know about - ” Neal pursed his lips together and gathered his dignity. “I didn’t jump. It was four storeys up with paving stones beneath. I climbed down the downspout. Her brother leaned out and shot my hat and my coat with a single bullet. If he’d got my boots it would have been a perfect trifecta…and I wasn’t wearing anything else!” He frowned. “A very nice hat and coat. More destroyed clothing! Luckily he was fat and didn’t stand a chance of catching me. I did get her hideously ugly emerald ring, though. It would have been insured, so I was absolutely doing her a favour!”

 

“And when did you last leave a lover’s room via the window, mon frère, wearing very little other than a hat and an emerald ring? When did you last throw away a coat because of a bullet hole? When did you last forge a perfect bond that had never been successfully forged before? When did you last steal a Rembrandt, or jump cable-cars to return one? When – when, Neal, did you last search for Spanish gold?

“This is every boy’s most glorious dream and you speak to me of sordid expense and timidity!”

 

Neal was somewhat at a loss for words at this accusation, so he was grateful for a diversion. Both he and Mozzie suddenly looked as though they were hearing music somewhere.

 

“Caerrovon’s calling us,” Mozzie said.

 

“We’d better go. My Lord usually just asks, this is more urgent. When is it there?”

 

“Late-afternoon. You go, I shall just…um…”

 

“The phrase for which you seek, Hercule, is ‘hide the evidence’,” Neal chuckled, straightened his clothing, ran fingers through his hair and jumped.

 

He landed in front of the desk and smiled. “My Lord – Brak! Good afternoon!”

 

“Ah, Mozzie was with you, was he?” Steel grinned, knowing that Neal wasn’t good at keeping track of both time-lines.

 

“He will join us in a minute. For what did you need us, my Lord?”

 

“A hug first, I think,” Steel smiled, stepped out from the back of the desk, and Neal strode over and they wrapped their arms round each other. Then they disengaged and Steel said, “I shall wait and tell you when Mozzie arrives.”

 

At that moment, Mozzie did, holding two bottles of a red wine he had found in a little private vineyard in France while travelling for that purpose. “Caerrovon!” he said. “A gift – to make up just a small amount of that lake of potable beverages we stole from you over the seasons!”

 

“Remind me you should not, Mozzie!” Steel told him. “It is in your best interests that I forget!”

 

Mozzie gave the bottles to Brak with a word of greeting, knowing that Brak was more likely to look after it and get it to the cellar in a timely fashion. “Now, what are all these lists, Caerrovon!”

 

Steel hesitated a moment. “Brak thinks I am over-reacting. But there have been some deaths. These are the dates, and these are the names of those deceased.”

 

“This is Betchem Keep?”

 

“Yes, they have occurred here, Betchem Keep, Camber Keep, Laffaysham Keep and Sunder Keep, that we know of. Lords Betchem, Camber and Laffay agree with me that there is something strange, though Lord Sunder feels we are probably seeing ghosts in the mists.”

 

“Which vanish?” Neal grinned, making Mozzie scowl a little.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Why do you think there is something odd about these deaths, Caerrovon?” Mozzie asked. “How did they die?”

 

“That is one of the strange things. No-one seems to know. They were all young.”

 

“Not sick?”

 

“No, before I knew of them, Lord Camber had found a Chiri, Kitran, or perhaps I should say was found by one, who helped save his son from a rock crevasse. Now we all make use of his and Lira’s abilities. All these people were in perfect health, they were young, and the Chiri are puzzled by their deaths. There seems to be no poison, no marks on the bodies.”

 

“These Keeps, my Lord…”

 

“To explain, I must give you a little of our history. Some many generations ago there were bloody wars fought between the Keeps. Of all of these I have mentioned, Steel is the smallest, Betchem the largest, about three times our size. But Steel had – and has, I suppose – strategic importance. We have a port, at Sea Keep, and here we sit at a sort of cross-roads of main routes. These five Keeps, as well as two others, Goran and Trent, made an alliance early on in the wars, sharing men, machinery, weapons, intelligence.

“No-one was able to overcome us, and we survived intact. Goran and Trent have drifted away, their politics are not as similar to ours as before.

“My father was not a very friendly man, and I fear the bond was weakened, but I often visited and was close friends with the children or grandchildren of Lord Betchem, Lord Camber and Lord Laffay. My mother was from Laffaysham Keep. Since I inherited the knot I have made sure that my dealings with all these Lord-Keepers have been good and mutually beneficial – perhaps even a little biased towards their interests. I think our alliance, other than the loss of the two, is now even stronger.

“Had they not been, perhaps we would not have spoken about these odd deaths, for there are only two or three in each Keep, and we might have thought it just a coincidence.”

 

“So there may be other deaths occurring in Keeps with which you have no strong ties?” Mozzie asked.

 

“Yes. It is difficult to ask, in that we do no want other Keeps to think we may have a contagion here and cease to trade with us! We know it is no such thing.”

 

“And Lira and Kitran can see no reason for death?” Neal queried.

 

“No, it is as though they died of old age, it seems, the energy has faded as it does then. But they had hundreds of seasons to live – most were not much older than I, some as young as you, Neal.”

 

“I think, if I was with the FBI still, the first questions would be about the victims. Is there anything they have in common? Are they all originally from the same region. Are they all females? Do they look alike – fair hair, blue eyes, for example. Some of the reasons, such as motive, don’t work very well with slaves. They do not leave millions to their heirs, they have no controlling interest in a business….”

 

“Could you find the answers to those questions, Caerrovon?” Mozzie asked. “And where were the bodies found? In their beds?”

 

“I can provide some answers immediately. Even our three dead young people did not share an origin. Two were born into slavery, one here, one at Betchem. The other was bought not long before I found you, Neal, and was from the far north countries. Two were fair as I, one had reddish hair. Two were men, one was female. None were in their beds. It seems they were found in the early evening, so probably were killed in the afternoon.”

 

Neal asked, “Can you ask the other Lord-Keepers, my Lord?”

 

“And what would be useful is if you showed us on the Castle blueprints where the bodies were found at Steel,” Mozzie went on. “And if the other Lord Keepers would provide their plans and where the bodies were found, that might give a clue…to something.”

 

Steel looked dubious. “I think not that the other Keeper-Lords will give up their castle plans without grave concerns, and only if facing a dire disaster, Mozzie.”

 

“We could go in there and make our own,” Mozzie grinned. “You know our excellent work!”

 

Steel’s expression lightened. “I should let you! I should _encourage_ you! Perhaps if you were caught by another Lord – _any_ of the other Lords! – and even with your half-knots and my word on your behalf - you would realise how merciful and kind I have always been to you!”

 

“We freely admit to your goodness towards us, my Lord,” Neal grinned. “It is because of your work on conflict resolution, I believe.”

 

Steel chuckled, and shook his head at his younger son, then asked more seriously, “Do you think I am over-stating the problem, there are only a few deaths, but even one unnecessary death is too many, is it not?”

 

“Definitely, my Lord,” Neal agreed. “And we do not need a detailed blue-print of their castles, unless these victims were found in a secret passageway! We really need to see what they were doing, if they were outside, it would be more of a plan of the public areas, I think.”

 

“For that I can ask them, Neal.”

 

“And Lord,” Neal said, a little uncomfortably, “if I were you, I would ask Diana – or ask Tammy to ask Diana – if she could bring Peter here, perhaps Peter and Jones and Diana together.”

 

“Why, Neal?”

 

“Mozzie and I are …um…” Neal remembered Steel’s edict, “we are not the Law, and we do not catch criminals. We do not think exactly the same way. These men and Diana are a very good team. They may well think of things to ask that we did not.”

 

“That is true,” Mozzie nodded.

 

“I would prefer not to be here, my Lord. But it is in your interest to ask Peter, he is brilliant at what he does and though your situation is not the same as Earth, villains seem to be the same. And the team really likes catching very bad guys.”

 

“I will do that, Neal, and I will ask the other Keeper-Lords for that information.

         “Now come, it is nearly time for the evening meal.”

 

“We need to change, my Lord – I feel out-of-place here in Earth clothing.”

 

“And you should both we wearing the half-knot,” Brak pointed out.

 

“Was he always so keen on protocol, my Lord?” asked Neal, with a sigh.

 

“Always, Neal. Much more than I, though less than my father!”

 

After dinner, Neal and Mozzie went through the lists. It was true, these victims – of whatever – were young. Steel was right to be concerned. There was something very wrong.

 

 

 

 

 

End of Chapter 1

Comments, good or critical, welcome...or just say hello!

 

 


	2. Going visiting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal and Mozzie visit another Keep for the first time. The Lords try and share what little information they have.
> 
> Same caveats apply: not my WC's!

 

 

Mozzie jumped back to Earth but Neal elected to stay…partly because he didn’t want to argue with his friend about the Spanish gold. This problem seemed much more important. Tamlin said she would get Peter and the team there the next morning, so Neal decided he would go for a ride. He would rather practise his weaponry, but a ride took him further from the areas in which he had a good chance of running into Peter.

 

He hadn’t ridden before coming to Steel Keep, so he had no idea how these horses compared to Earth steeds, but he had come to love the feel of the fresh air, the wind in his hair, the powerful muscles beneath him, the companionship between horse and rider. He collected Simma, a gull-grey stallion with black mane and tail and soft mauve eyes. Of his two favourite horses, this was the taller.

 

He talked to the horse, and the oval ears twitched back and forth, listening. He wondered how much they understood. The very well-trained war- and trick-horses Klenalth had displayed for them seemed very aware of words, just as an Earth sheepdog or circus horse will respond to complex commands.

 

Then he started to let his mind drift over the puzzle of the deaths. _They had been alone. No obvious wounds. Perhaps a hypodermic? A dart gun? They were young and fit, no-one would be able to inject them up close without some sort of struggle, defensive wounds, bruises, something. But a dart gun…no obvious poison, but there were many ways of poisoning and leaving no trace. Ice-darts of some powerful toxin? On Earth they had found that even bullets could be made of ice, if solids were introduced. Some poison that was rapidly metabolised to something found in the body. Insulin, potassium, adrenaline – no, that would leave signs of stress…a gas, lack of air…?_

 

He wondered if the Chiri would recognise something they’d never encountered. On Earth, toxicology labs could only run so many tests on a normal tox-screen, and the number of poisons was huge. Only if the police found something – an exotic plant, or animal - associated with the case could something unusual and specific be run. But the Chiri were different. He must ask.

 

 _Murder is easy_ he thought. _Agatha Christie again! Hmmm…but it is. A murderer, if he has any brains or creativity, has it made compared to a forger!_

_He kills someone – chances are, he can make it look accidental. Or natural in other ways – heart attack, for example, accidental overdose of sleeping pills. All he needs is reasonable doubt! Juries don’t like putting a man away – or giving him the death sentence, without a lot of proof, and generally, I would get away with it because I could get the jury’s sympathy. I know how to charm people and look innocent. If someone suspects, all the killer has to do is have a scape-goat, someone with a better motive and no alibi whereas he has a water-tight alibi. If he’s prepared to kill, he won’t blink at framing someone else!_

_If he’s lucky, the poison he uses won’t be suspected till after the body’s been cremated. It’s incredibly easy to plant evidence to implicate someone else. Even easier now… fingerprints, hair, DNA – people somehow think they are foolproof!_

_Whereas I have to leave my ‘body of evidence’ hanging in full sight of every museum visitor, and the statute of limitations only starts after the forgery is discovered, which I think is just plain unfair! And so few people are capable of doing what I do, whereas from what I can tell, almost any damn idiot can murder someone, so the suspect pool is huge! Pity I have this Thing about violence. I can’t easily see a reason to kill, though. Revenge…I guess. Like Fowler. Or money. Insurance. Have to be a few down the line so not the obvious suspect._

 

He suddenly realised that perhaps it wasn’t only Mozzie who wanted to stretch his semi-legitimate ‘grey cells’. Or not legitimate at all. _Those caves were fun! Okay, we must find a way to see if he’s right about the wreck. It’s only fair!_

Neal tightened his calves on the lovely horse’s sides and he shook his head and moved easily into an extended trot, then that strange loping canter of these flexible horses, and finally into that cheetah-run that always took Neal’s breath away! He laughed, the wind rifling fingers through his soft curls, hardly able to catch his breath till he leaned down over the horse’s withers and tried to become one with the balanced dynamic sculpture of tensing and releasing muscles beneath him, powering through the air and over the grass.

 

 

“Made to run!” Neal told him as he groomed the horse later. “You’re like me, Simma, made to run!” He’d cooled him down, watered him at the trough, fed him and Klenalth had glanced in and nodded at Neal, pleased.

When he was sure his mount was comfortable and clean, he dusted himself off and went in to shower.

_Now what sort of person here is made to kill? Could it be some insect-borne illness that works so quickly in the body – or slowly, but no symptoms until death? Seems unlikely…parasites, diseases, need the victims to live and spread them around, to insects or other humans._

Neal sneaked around till he was sure that Peter and the other Earthlings had gone before appearing at Steel’s study. There was a note in English:

 

 **JOIN US AT THE STABLES, NEAL. W** **ear your ceremonial sword, bring your four-day fancy-clothes bag and look decent. Going visiting. State visit!** **ASAP.**

So Moz was here. No name on the note, wasn’t any other Earthling; he knew their writing. This was no script he recognised. Mozzie was definitely bored! And if Diana thought that Neal Caffrey was dangerous when bored, well, that was because she hadn’t spent much time with Mozzie. It didn’t happen often, usually a new vineyard was enough to keep him occupied, he could be very peaceful. Until he wasn’t.

 

He ran to his rooms, changed into a very nice jacket, scrambled his things together, donned the sword and his best boots and fled for the stables, dodging other slaves, who laughed at him. His large kit-bag would have knocked Leran off his feet had the fit warrior not jumped back - and shaken a fist at Neal’s back. Neal left his apology hanging on the air behind him.

Steel, Mozzie, Brak, Tamlin and a small group of soldiers, most of whom Neal knew, were ready to mount up.

         “Here he is!” Mozzie exclaimed.

 

         “Sorry, my Lord!” Neal panted, handing his bag to Peyt, who was in charge of the pack animals. “Just got the note!”

 

         “Take Milti, Neal,” Joster said, dismounting. “I will saddle another and join you.”

 

         “No, Joster, thanks, but I was late - ”

 

         Joster looked at his half-knot significantly and Neal saw Steel grinning. “Oh, all right but only because we are in a hurry! I do not like – never mind, never mind!”

 

Not without a little difficulty he climbed aboard Milti who would have been called two-and-a-half or more hands taller than Simma on Earth; Joster’s legs were long! Joster eventually gave him a helpful push! Neal felt like Steel’s child indeed, riding on her.

 

As soon as they were on the road, the soldiers went before and after them, leaving the five together to talk.

 

“So, was the ex-FBI team useful?” Neal asked.

 

Steel said to him, “You are going to have to get used to the whole heir-to-the-Keep thing, Neal! And yes, though many points they made had already been brought up by one of us. We are joining all the Lord-Keepers at Laffaysham, they have just had another death. We will pool information and ideas. Kitran and perhaps Lira will be there.”

 

“How – how careful do we have to be, Lord, not to offend the other Lord-Keepers? Can we speak freely, do we remain silent?” Neal asked.

 

“If you show normal courtesy, Neal and Mozzie, after we are all introduced, you should be fine. But be aware, Steel is of lesser importance than any other Keep represented. It is the smallest; I am the youngest Lord.”

 

“Young and small means manoeuvrable and smart!” Mozzie said. “But we will be sure not to push that at any of the large, slower Keeps!”

 

“Good!” Steel said, feelingly. “I would hate to restart the Keep Wars!”

 

“I am going to be stiff tomorrow!” Neal mourned. “I wish I had known – I already rode quite a bit today, and I have seen the maps, this is a long journey! We could jump…” he suggested, hopefully.

 

“No, we could not. Mozzie and I were talking about that last time he came. Very few people know any of us can jump. Very few people know the Chiri, and of those, few know they move through space at will. It is, in fact, only the Earthling ex-slaves that visit here, you two, and Tamlin here, that translate. I trust my slaves completely, and even so very few of them know, and I warned them about speaking to friends and relatives and other people who visit the Keep - but it would be dire if any Slavers found out how to do this trick, Neal.”

 

“Yes, you are right! The stiffness will be merely payback for me flunking seeing Peter!” Neal made a face. “Now, what did they say?”

 

“They asked if these killings could be an act of terrorism,” Mozzie started. “But so far as we know there have been no demands or bragging. Terrorism only works if people are aware and frightened.”

 

“I had thought not of that. And the notes taking credit may yet appear.”

 

“Killing for the simple reason of frightening others seems extremely bizarre to me,” Steel said.

 

“The people who do it are extremely bizarre,” Neal agreed.

 

“They also suggested,” Steel went on, “that no-one go anywhere alone, that we institute the…”

 

“Buddy system,” Moz said in English. Then reverted to Sheel, “Two or more in every group.”

 

“Is that not going to alert people to the fact that there have been killings, or some threat, if suddenly they can not be alone?” Neal demanded. “That surely will scare people?”

 

“Peter called it a trade-off,” Tamlin said.

 

“I thought about it and had a few ideas,” Neal said, and told them what he had thought.

 

“The Chiri say they would detect poison,” Tamlin said.

 

“Could they somehow have removed all the oxygen from the air?” Neal asked. “Were any deaths in the open?”

 

“We can check, but at least one we know of, at Betchem,” Steel told him. “So that would not be feasible.”

 

“There is something no-one is mentioning,” Mozzie said. Neal looked down. Mozzie was on a horse – or was it called a pony? – that suited him, and Neal was on this giraffe! One of the things Neal had always admired about Mozzie was that he seemed unaware of his height, and his baldness, for that matter. It was as though Mozzie saw them as attributes, and therefore they were. “If what you say is true, and no other humans can jump, that leaves three possibilities: one, these deaths are not being done by one person, but by a group. It is therefore a conspiracy - !”

 

Neal groaned aloud.

 

“ – or, two, these deaths are being perpetrated by a Chiri or Chiri-like creature who can jump _and_ can take health instead of give it. Perhaps a rogue Chiri? Or, three, you are wrong, and someone else can jump. The deaths are often too close together in time to be done by someone who needs to ride even a fast horse between Keeps.”

 

“Unless they are using some sort of vehicle we know not about,” Brak suggested. “An illegal vehicle, Master Caerrovon?”

 

“Or they somehow can kill remotely, or set up some sort of trap, but that seems even more far-fetched!” Neal frowned a little. “I can think of ways of doing such a thing, but not if there is no evidence left behind!”

“But _why_. It all seems such a lot of work for nothing!” Steel said, confused.

 

“You need to know that crazy people have reasons, my Lord,” Neal said, “but we may not be able to understand them.”

 

Joster caught them up after a short while and Neal swopped mounts with him. Which meant that Joster was riding Milti and Neal was riding Jeru, a caramel mare with a lovely narrow back and easy gaits. “Thank you, Joster! Much more my size!” Neal told him.

 

“Little small for me, Neal.” Joster grinned and backed up to ride with the rear half of the escort.

 

“If we are all going to be pairing up till this puzzle is solved,” Steel said, “I am going to have to insist that you choose your personal squires, men, whatever you like to call them. And preferably stay together, as well!”

 

“Oh, but - ”

 

“Neal, I ask very little of you, but in this, my son, you will obey me.”

 

“Yes, my Lord.” He looked mutinous for a moment, then said, “I choose Tamlin.”

 

Tamlin made a small squeak. Steel frowned. “Have Tamlin you can _not!_ She is an important part of my retinue! And anyway, she is a woman and cannot help you dress! It is unseemly!”

 

Neal scowled, said, “It is not as though she would care! I like Tamlin!” but then turned and looked back and said, “Then Joster.”

 

“But - ”

 

“My Lord, you said you wanted me to pick someone, and now everyone I pick - ”

 

“All right, all right!”

 

After a moment, Steel looked at him hard. “You wanted Joster all along, did you not? You must have known that have Tamlin you could not!”

 

Neal opened his eyes innocent-wide, dropped the reins and held up his hands, fingers spread. Steel turned away, ignoring him.

 

“I shall have to think about it, Caerrovon,” Mozzie said. “But I never go off riding or anything foolish, so I probably need no helper for most of the time I am here. And we can jump.”

 

“You swore allegiance, and you will take a guard or squire…”

 

Mozzie said nothing, just rode along. Steel looked from him to Neal and tried not to get annoyed or laugh.

 

Brak, from a little way behind him, said, “That is why, Master Caerrovon, most people choose to have sons that they get as babies and can train over many seasons in ways of compliance and obedience.”

 

Mozzie and Neal both put their heads down to hide a grin. Steel said to Brak, “Oh, I can train them, Brak. I just have to ascertain if it is possible to keep their spirit and individuality, and graft in the compliance. If it seems not, I shall have to give up that dream, use tougher methods and settle for the obedience alone.”

 

Brak snorted with glee and Steel jogged along, ignoring both Neal’s and Mozzie’s indignant glances.

 

They rode along the Highway. Every now and then there were groups of houses and buildings like small barns. Sometimes children came out and waved, sometimes a man would watch them from beside a horse and plough, hand raised in greeting.

 

“I should have brought something,” Neal said, waving back. “Little treats for the children or something! These are all our people, my Lord, are they not?”

 

“It was a rushed departure,” Steel acknowledged, smiling and calling a greeting to one of his tenants. “And yes, all this section of Highway is ours. You will see signage of the change. We travel a while through Betchem and then on to Laffaysham.”

 

“We maintain this part of the road?”

 

“Yes, but the way we make the surface of the highway lasts well.”

 

 

 

 

It was indeed a long ride. They made camp that night and the next and rode the next day and got to Laffaysham by nightfall. The soldiers led spare horses for each of them, so the horses were not as exhausted as they.

“I learn jumping at Steel, never have to take transport anywhere on Earth, and now here I am, having to take the slow road _here!”_ Neal complained to Mozzie, wanting a hot bath very badly. It was only later that Neal was surprised that _Mozzie_ had not been complaining! After all, as far as Neal could tell, Mozzie never rode a horse! Or a bicycle, motorbike...skateboard...though the idea of Mozzie on a skateboard made him chuckle!

 

They were met firstly by the Laffay guards, who took them to the main room – the equivalent of Steel’s Greatroom, but much larger – where they were welcomed by Lord and Lady Laffay, some of their family members, including the heir, and their people. They were affectionate towards Steel, he was their grand-nephew or some such thing, Neal wasn’t sure of the words.

 

Lords Sunder and Camber were already there, Lord Betchem was still en route. The heir to Laffaysham introduced every main member of each party to Lord Steel, and then, without missing a beat, Mozzie stepped forward, and, using exactly the same wordings and courtesies, introduced the Steel contingent, small as it was.

 

It was a short time later that Lord Betchem and _his_ group arrived, and it all happened again!

 

“I wish for all of you to allow yourselves to be taken to your suites. Rest and refresh yourselves and we will convene for a meal. After a pleasant evening and good night’s rest, we will be able to speak and our minds will be clear.”

 

Each of the Lords in turn expressed their gratitude, and servants came and the various groups followed them away.

 

“Where are we going, my Lord?” Neal queried, quietly, as they followed the liveried servant down what seemed endless corridors.

 

“I told you, Neal, Steel is the smallest. Which is one reason we seldom host all the Lord-Keepers and their retinues. And being the smallest, our group gets the most remote suites!”

 

“Lucky, then, that we are the youngest and fittest!” Neal said, then, as his thighs and knees protested, “Normally, anyway!”

 

The suite allotted to them was well-appointed without being luxurious, the main rooms for Lord Steel, two side suites for Mozzie and Neal and then there were seven other smaller suites for their personal servants or counsellors. The soldiers were barracked with Laffaysham soldiers, and Brak went off immediately to see that they were well looked after.

 

“Joster can come and stay here if he would like,” Neal told Brak as he left. “And may I have a bath, my Lord?”

 

 

 

The formal dinner was different to anything Neal or Mozzie had experienced here, though Neal had once inveigled his way into a sumptuous formal dinner at Buckingham Palace, but that’s a long story for another day.

 

Steel was amused as he watched across the table that Neal and Mozzie both settled in and seemed quite at home with the large platters, the unending silverware, the multitude of glasses and the various dishes with which they were all plied by the servants. Brak, stood in full Steel livery behind his Master’s chair, and took food from the servants and generally coddled Steel – it was about the only chance he got to do it, and he was revelling in it!

 

“Next time, you will have your two menservants as well!” Steel determinedly thought across the table at his sons, who were unaware of this, of course!

 

It was a little less restricted than the very formal dinners of yesteryear in English history, for example, but to be safe, Neal spoke only to the ladies on his left and right, though Mozzie struck up a conversation with Laffay’s second son, and the pretty, slightly vapid girl between them, some granddaughter of Lord Betchem.

 

The food was excellent and varied and the wines fine enough and plentiful enough to please even Mozzie. Neal glanced across, noting that Steel did partake of a few of the wines, but very little, sipping water between courses. He was seated next to Betchem’s youngest daughter, a little younger than himself and a friend from his boyhood, and they seemed very happy talking together, though he spent more time conversing with the regal and snooty-looking Lady Camber on his left.

 

The whole Keep was obviously of a greater age than Steel, and from a time when architecture was more ornate. Neal never looked like a country bumpkin with his head on a swivel, but enjoyed taking in all the differences. He wondered if they would stay long enough for him to ask for a tour of the artwork and buildings here. He must make an effort to visit the different Keeps and compare, and get to know the families. Mozzie wasn’t likely to do so, and it was important if they were the heirs…and he saw how smart his Lord had been, to pair them up. They were life-long friends, yet very different. He glanced up, caught his Lord’s eye and they shared a quick smile.

 

Neal and Mozzie both were a little surprised that none of their dinner companions thought it strange that their young Lord had adopted former slaves as heirs. Usually, Barstellon Laffay told Mozzie, a Keeper only inherited the knot at a much greater age than had Lord Steel, and therefore with a well-established lineage, but it was only sensible to put in place heirs in case of a tragedy.

 

“After all,” he said, “look at what happened to his father! His mother died early; his father, though young, had not re-married, and there was only one child!” His tone told Mozzie that this was practically unheard of! “It is good that Caerrovon made friends with all the younger Betchems and Cambers and his family on his mother’s side here, for it must have been a lonely childhood!”

 

“He was a surprise, when we were first here,” Mozzie told him. “We had very different expectations of a slave master!”

 

“He’s known to be soft,” chuckled Prorva, Lord Betchem’s granddaughter. “But it seems to work for him: we have slaves that ask if they can be bought by Steel, and if Grandfather tries to buy a slave from Steel, he has to pay more, which he tells me goes towards the slave when we free them after five winters. And even then, they are miserable and though well-trained and polite, it is hardly worth the effort unless we need someone with special abilities.”

 

“He will never be rich, that is sure and certain!” Barstellon went on. “He frees more slaves than he buys, I think!

         “But Ethlan and his two sibs told me that Steel is now a very nice Keep to visit. Your Lord Steel is much younger than I, you understand, we were not close friends, I thought him a little weak and foolish, but I am told that his slaves would die for him without thought…that is not something that can be trained into a slave-force.”

 

“I do not know them all personally,” Mozzie told him, “but I think his friends are right. We certainly would.”

 

Barstellon and Prorva regarded Mozzie with interest, but then the lady on his other side claimed his attention.

 

After the meal had finally ended with fruit and a sweeter wine, they went through to the ballroom. Their band was playing some light music and there were some tables for games, and many chairs for sitting and talking more informally, and some of the younger attendees asked Lord Laffay is they could clear a space and dance, and he laughed and nodded, and soon there was an impromptu hop off to one side. Some of the older members watched indulgently while the rest split into groups and played the various table-games or spoke of various topics.

 

Mozzie found a table and took on several older men and two women at a game rather like multi-player chess that he had found he was rather good at. Neal stayed close to Lord Steel for a while, thinking that it might be polite, but his Lord nodded, “Go and dance, Neal, I know you are light on your feet.”

 

“My feet are not the problem, my Lord!” Neal smiled, but went over and watched for a little, as the dancers were already made up for the set. Then he wandered back and found Steel deep in conversation with his friend Ethlan.

 

“Let me introduce you, Neal! Ethlan, this is my son and heir, Neal Caffrey Ellington-Steel.”

 

“Sir,” Neal said, bowing his head.

 

“Caerrovon tells me you are a great artist,” Ethlan said, smiling down at Neal…almost every male here was much taller than Neal, and the women not much shorter! Mozzie seemed not to notice, but Neal found it just a little odd.

 

Neal smiled back and said, “Fathers, even adopted ones, often over-rate their son’s brilliance, Sir.”

 

“I shall have to come and see for myself! But we are always so busy – or it is winter and the roads are difficult! It is ridiculous how seldom my good friends and I get together, especially this one,” he butted Lord Steel’s shoulder with the side of his fist, “since he inherited the knot and all the responsibilities. You need to take over some of them so he can come and visit as he used to do.”

 

Neal felt very awkward at this. Perhaps he should have done so! And all he had done since inheriting the heirship was copy artwork on Earth, paint some caves and fix up their villa in Italy…and now Mozzie wanted to raise some treasure ship…

 

“No, look not like that, Neal! Ethlan, Neal has been working extremely hard and very long hours re-building the destroyed art-work of his home planet, decimated by the alien wars. He is one of very few men who knows many of the artist’s techniques and works in such detail that he can duplicate their masterpieces even from scraps.”

 

“Then I must make the effort and come and visit and see his work, Caerrovon. Oh, I am sorry, my father is gesturing for me. I hope to speak to both of you further before we leave.”

 

When they were alone, Neal said, “He seems very nice.”

 

“Probably my closest boyhood friend until I bought Jarad,” Steel nodded. “We used to have great fun at Betchem.”

 

“He came not to Steel?”

 

“Oh, sometimes…but there are a whole clan of youngsters at Betchem, and Camber is reasonable close to Betchem, so it was easier if I visited there, and many of them were afraid of my father!” He laughed softly, remembering.

 

“My Lord?” Neal asked, hesitantly, “could you tell me…who is that girl sitting in the corner with the two men?”

 

Steel turned, careful not to stare and turned back. “Her name is Aramalitha. She is some sort of distant younger cousin of mine…from here at Laffaysham.” He looked back at Neal. _Oh._

The girl was listening to some friends of hers from Sunder and Camber, her eyes laughing. Her strange, pale-green eyes were set slightly uptilted at the outer-corners in a cute face with a pointed little chin. Her pale white-gold hair was coiled with pale green ribbons that matched her dress. Steel grinned to himself. There was nothing wrong with Aramalitha, but she was appealing rather than beautiful, and the majority of young women present outshone her. And here was Neal, certainly one if not _the_ most beautiful man there, obviously interested.

 

Of course, his lack of inches made him seem very young and perhaps less attractive to certain ladies.

 

“Um, if there is some opportunity that seems natural, could you introduce us, my Lord?” Neal asked.

 

“Of course I will, Neal.” He gestured to a servant who had just taken another bottle of wine to Mozzie’s table – Mozzie would win by default if not skill for, as Neal had told Steel, he had a head for ethanol in any form as solid as the bare-rock eastern mountains! – and whispered an instruction. The servant smiled and wove his way carefully between the guests until he stood before the little group. The cute girl listened, looked round, searching, and the servant indicated where Steel was sitting.

 

“Did you need to do that here, with everyone watching, my Lord?” Neal asked, flustered.

 

“Few people are watching us, Neal! And how many young ladies of your acquaintance would be offended when told that a handsome young heir to a Keep had shown particular interest in them?”

 

“Even the smallest of the Close-Five Keeps, Lord?” Neal chuckled. “And I am not sure about handsome, at the very least I am unusually dark compared to all your people. And an Earthling ex-slave, and the second shortest man here? To be honest, I have little experience in any of these areas!”

 

“Normally you approach them and charm them into your arms, Neal, without formal introductions?” Steel grinned up at him.  “With darkly ulterior motives?”

 

“Sometimes, my Lord!”

 

Aramalitha made her way towards them, smiling at one person and then another. Neal tried not to watch her conspicuously, but she moved beautifully. She came up to them, glanced at Neal, but curtseyed to Lord Steel.

 

“Hallo, Aramalitha!” Steel said, standing.

 

“Lord Steel! I am so glad to see you. Since you inherited the knot I hear you have been very busy! And you won the all-in Warrior Award last summer? I was very proud, since we are blood-kin!”

 

“Thank you, Aramalitha! And yes, I have been busy, it is a lot of responsibility, even though Steel is smaller by far than Laffaysham!”

 

“But you are all alone, Uncle Caerrovon! My Lord Laffay has four brothers and six sons to share the workload and his grandsons are helping, too.”

 

Neal blinked, taking all of this in. Steel turned slightly, including Neal and said, “I would like to introduce my younger heir, Neal Caffrey Ellington-Steel. He was desirous of meeting you, little one.”

 

It was all very well for Steel to call her little, but Neal was not much taller than she was. He stooped over her hand and murmured, “I am honoured to make your acquaintance, my lady,” noting her slender and quite lovely hands. Otherwise, up close, her face was unusual, not quite symmetrical, saved from merely sweet by this pair of arresting eyes, like sparkling pale-green water.

         She did not lift her chin and challenge him as many of the Earthling women would have done. She looked at him frankly, meeting his blue eyes without artifice, and smiled a little.

         “It is a pleasure to meet one of the men my favourite uncle has chosen to be his successor. Rumour says you have lived a great deal, Sir.”

 

“Call me Neal,” Neal smiled.

 

“Only if you will call me Aramalitha,” she said.

 

“Why do you not take him to see the garden, Aramalitha?” Steel suggested, vastly entertained. “I am sure the Lord has set the lanterns and lights around it – it is so pretty like that, and Neal has a great eye for beauty!”

 

Neal shot him a raised-eyebrow glance. _Shut up, Dad! Not needing any help, here! –_ which made Steel grin and look down to hide it.

The gardens were very lovely, however. Several other couples were wandering slowly around them, taking a rest from the dancing and making a chance to converse without interruption. This area was a large courtyard, surrounded by beds planted thickly with scented flowers of all colours, the paths between low-lit with many small lanterns.

 

“You were not born here?” Aramalitha asked as an opening.

 

“No, far, far away. I was captured by hostile aliens and brought here and to my great good fortune was purchased by your kinsman.”

 

“He is a lovely man,” she said.

 

“Yes, he is.” _Oh, am I out of my league if she likes Steel of Steel Keep!_

 

“How was it, suddenly being a slave?”

 

“When we first realised we had been captured by aliens, and when we realised our destiny, we were terrified, furious, disgusted…every negative emotion you could name. It _was_ disgusting and horrifying on the Slave-ship and at the Slavers’ pens. I still cannot understand capturing or buying people and treating them badly. You would not plant these flowers and then ride your favourite horse over them, would you? If they are worth stealing, worth purchasing, they are worth looking after. However, that is not what we experienced.

         “Then, when we were on display at the Slave Market, your uncle saw us, spoke to us…” Neal’s voice went soft, he was looking down, smiling, and Aramalitha paused and he had to stop and turn to her.

 

“He made a lasting impression?”

 

“As the first sunny day after a very long, dark, terrifying winter without food or shelter.”

 

“Well, you obviously love him and that says a great deal for you, Neal.”

 

“To tell you truly, it says a great deal about _him_ , Aramalitha. He is very easy to love.” _Might as well find out now._

She turned a little more towards him and smiled into his eyes and his breath caught. “Think you not that I hanker to be Lady of his Keep, Neal!”

 

“Not even eventually?” Neal riposted, and regretted it immediately. It was far too forward a remark to this gently bred girl. But she laughed.

 

“No, be not shy of your regard. It is of no use, Neal.” Then she turned her head. “Oh, I must go! My brother is wondering where I am. I am supposed to spend some time with my baby nieces and nephews, as they are not allowed to be part of the gathering.”

 

Neal wondered if he should offer to come and help her baby-sit, he _was_ a teacher, after all, but she smiled and touched his arm and said, “Another time, perhaps. I would like to spend some more time with you, you have much to tell me!”

 

“I will walk you back – where is your brother?” Neal asked, and they moved more purposefully back towards the house. “So you are a Sensitive?”

 

“Yes. My uncle, your Lord, is too, but I am full Laffay-blood and my gift is said to be as strong as any.”

 

Neal wasn’t sure how he felt about that: a girl from whom he could keep no secrets!

 

 

 

 

End of Chapter 2

 

Ha! Poor Neal!

 


	3. Stalled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mozzie enjoys himself, the 5-Keep Conclave finds out how little they know and Neal faces a decision

 

 

 

 

 

The evening passed pleasantly. Lord Steel spoke with many of his old friends and had some time with each of the other Lords and those wives present. He and Neal both took part in some of the dancing.

 

Neal took note of the delightful surroundings, the brilliant lights and clear colours of the rooms. All the Laffays, rather like the Steel Keepers, wore colours: bright and rich, and many, especially the Lord’s family, had intricate embroideries and some sort of beadwork adorning their clothes. He wondered where Lucilla had hailed from, or if the beauty of the festival clothing they wore at Steel was due to his Lord’s taste, influenced by his Laffay mother.

 

There were few representatives from Sunder, and they wore mostly browns and dark, sombre colours, in contrast to the Cambers, who wore almost exclusively pastels and neutrals with no embroidery but appliqué and cut-work over a contrasting colour. He wondered how all these customs had begun, between glancing around, searching for a pair of limpid green eyes.

 

Mozzie, his eyes quietly sparkling, triumphed over many powerful and influential men and women, won a vast sum of money, and further, won their ever-lasting respect both as a player and a drinker. Many of his fallen opponents …literally… had to be helped to bed by their manservants. _Another reason_ , Mozzie thought as he mentally calculated his winnings, _that I do not need one._

 

Members of Steel Keep gave their thanks to their host and hostess and made an early exit from the festivities. Neal, despite his saddle-weary body, would have stayed, but there was no point. Aramalitha did not return and everything and everyone else seemed a little insipid by contrast.

 

As they were getting ready for bed, Mozzie came into Lord Steel’s suite and handed him a very heavy, over-stitched leather bag.

 

         “What is this, Mozzie?” the Lord asked, surprised.

 

         “My winnings, Caerrovon. Lord Laffay donated the bag, and was amused by my need for it. He does not gamble, Lord Laffay. Sadly.”

 

         Steel took the bag and looked in, puzzled, estimating the weight and contents. “You did well, son!”

 

“Not badly,” Mozzie agreed. “I needed not cheat.”

 

Steel laughed. Mozzie sounded disappointed that his cheating skills hadn’t been brought into play!

 

“You would like me to take charge of this for you?” Steel asked.

 

Mozzie looked puzzled. “It is for you, Caerrovon.”

 

“For me? But you won it!”

 

“Yes, but I have no use for it. I have everything I need here and everything I need on Earth.  Cash is never the problem. I am very rich, Caerrovon, and here I have your signet-ring, so it should go into the Keep’s coffers.”

 

“But – but - ?” Steel frowned a little. “Why do you play?”

 

“I like the challenge. I like to win. And I can help the Keep, my home. And you, Caerrovon.”

 

“Thank you, Mozzie!” Steel said, a little faintly. It was really a great deal of money tokens, gold and jewellery!

 

Mozzie nodded and went out.

 _Now, Barstellon, slightly judgemental Heir of Laffay , tell me that my father is never going_ _to be rich! I shall make sure that he is!_

_Emerson asked ‘Why should my happiness depend on the thoughts going on in someone else’s head?’ – and I can’t think why! But for all that, I’m happy to prove their thoughts spurious, purely for the fun of it!_

 

 

 

After a rather late breakfast by Steel standards, all the main players gathered in the formal diningroom and settled in their Keep groups.

 

Lira was there, and with her stood a man of similar build and height: Kitran. They both looked solemn.

 

At first there was just a general sharing of information, nothing new was said. A young girl, younger even than Neal would have been if born locally, had been hanging some washing in the courtyard and was found there, near the west wall of the yard, furthest away from the kitchen.

 

At last the exchange of anxieties wound down.

 

“Are there any thoughts?” Lord Laffay asked.

 

Steel raised his hand a little and when Laffay saw him, said,

“My son, Mozzie, made the comment that more than one person might be involved, or if it is just one, they are using some sort of illegal transport, since some of the deaths occurred very close together. There would not have been time for a horse, even a very fast horse, to make the trips back and forth between our Keeps.

“My son Neal wanted to know of you, Lira and Kitran, if you could perceive a poison you had never seen before. Or if it was a poison that the body metabolised rapidly just before death, leaving only natural substances behind.”

 

Lord Laffay nodded. “That thought occurred to some of us, too, Lord Steel, your son is correct. Kitran?”

 

Kitran spoke softly, yet everyone could hear him. “We are at a loss, Lord Steel, Lord Laffay, Neal. We do not think poison was involved. But it is hard to know if we would see something we knew not. It is not so much the poison, but the reaction of a body to the poison that we first detect. The body is fighting in some way, there is a…desperation, a warming. Here there is nothing like that. They slept.”

 

“Sedative?” Neal asked, and then waved an apology to Lord Laffay, who gave him a strange frown-smile mixture.

 

“No, for that, too, the body fights unless it is taken willingly, Neal,” Lira joined in.

 

“Lord Laffay?” Neal asked permission and when the Lord nodded, added, “So that rules out allergens, diseases or poisons, however introduced, smothering in some way…there are diseases known on Earth that cause the sufferer to age prematurely...actually, I think it is a genetic defect – Mozzie?”

 

Mozzie nodded. “Very rare, though.”

 

“What are allergens?” Lord Laffay asked, and when the whole subject was explained, Neal and Mozzie found that no-one on the planet suffered from allergies.

 

“Interesting. People on Earth suffered far less allergies at one time…I hardly knew anyone as a child,” Mozzie remarked as an aside to Neal. “Everyone ate PB&J’s, and now there are ‘No Peanut’ signs everywhere. Wonder if it will improve after the wars? GMO’s? PCB’s? Hmm…?”

 

Neal frowned him quiet. Not that he was wrong, but not valid here and now.

 

“And the genetic diseases would occur not with such sudden frequency in members of divergent ethnic groups,” Lira pointed out, “after never occurring before!”

 

The company looked at each other, not even knowing what questions to ask.

 

Mozzie put his hand up tentatively, and Lord Laffay acknowledged him. He asked, “I hate to ask this of you, Lira, Kitran, could it be a rogue Chiri? Someone who removes all health, just as you give it?”

 

Kitran sighed. “Lira and I have even discussed such a strange idea, Mozzie. We cannot say it is impossible, only that it would be so foreign to our people that it would constitute a terrible disorder within itself. We do not harm, we only help. Partly because we feel the suffering we have to counter it. But because there seem no other sensible ideas, we will convene an Assembly and explain our problem to our people. We will return to you with the results of this.”

 

“Do not hold too much hope, children,” Lira said. “In all our tens of hundreds of seasons, we have never heard of such an aberration.”

 

“What about AIDS?” Neal said, suddenly, in English. He realised he had spoken out of turn and waved another apology to Lord Laffay who made irritated ‘go on’ movements with his hand. Neal returned to Sheel “On Earth there appeared all of a sudden a terrible disease, never seen before that time – thirty-something four-seasons ago or more. I am not sure where it first appeared, it was very hard to diagnose.

         “To put it briefly, the disease depresses or destroys the very systems the body uses to fight infection. This disease does not kill, it weakens the body so it falls victim to other diseases, almost any slight infection is then deadly.

“On Earth, our bodies also lose the ability to fight infections with age, so perhaps this is what is happening? That the reactions to the disease are not seen because the body is not fighting it. It recognises it not as a disease.”

“The disease of which I speak lies dormant for many tens of seasons sometimes, and it usually, but not always takes a while to weaken the victim till they succumb to multiple infections, including…” he paused and said “ – cancer?” in English, and went back to Sheel. “A disease where some cells multiply incorrectly and the bad cells are stronger and take the blood and strength from healthy cells…I am not explaining very well, I can tell you more accurately if you wish. But could there be a disease like that here, but one that comes on very quickly, with few if any symptoms? Something new, or brought from another star by the Slavers?”

 

Lord Camber made a movement and Lord Laffay nodded and he went on, “Neal of Steel – it is one of our greatest fears, that these greedy and ignorant Slavers might bring a disease here for which we have no natural defences. The Chiri have voiced their concerns. Yes, what they do to free people such as yourselves is truly despicable, but if we do not stop them we could also wreak havoc on our own people.”

 

Lira stepped forward and said, “We will speak to the Earthlings, Lord-Keepers, and review what we know. It is possible that this is happening.”

 

Lord Laffay looked around the faces, most of them deeply troubled by the thought of such a disease being loosed on the planet. No-one had anything to add, so he suggested that they all stay another night, or longer if they wished. All the Lords expressed their gratitude for his hospitality, but most were beginning to become anxious to return to their Keeps, so it was agreed that they would stay another night and reconvene in the morning before heading back.

 

The men and women rose and left the room, but Steel, Brak and his two sons remained and were joined by the two Chiri. Kitran took them all through to a little sun-room, and they took seats there, but Lira stopped Neal and gave him a gentle hug, to Kitran’s obvious astonishment.

         “How are you, Neal?” she said.

 

“You would know better than I, my dear Lira,” Neal smiled, and she nodded and smiled back at him. “Now explain to us this disease that seems not a disease, Neal.”

 

Neal turned the description over to Mozzie, who could repeat everything he had ever learned about the terrible condition, choosing what would be useful in this situation, and translating the concepts as best he could into Sheel. He left out the possibility, frequently accepted amongst his erudite and paranoid friends, that the disease had been manufactured and deliberately spread to designated populations. He would have loved to give all the very good evidence for such a despicable act, but it was hardly pertinent.

 

Afterwards, the Chiri left them to go to their people. Steel looked at his sons. “What do you wish to do with the rest of the day, Neal and Mozzie?”

 

“I would like to see the library of the Keep,” Mozzie told him. “I have only seen yours, Caerrovon.”

 

“I can show you where it is. And Neal?”

 

“I would like to ask Lord Laffay if I could go around the Keep and see all their art work and architecture, my Lord.”

 

“Ah, of course. We shall see you at lunch time, then.”

 

Neal strode off down the stone corridors and asked a slave where he could find the Lord. The slave, a tall young man (weren’t they all?), was about to tell him when Neal stopped him with a hand on his arm and asked him his name, where he was from and if he would mind showing him his collar.

         The slave seemed surprised. “I am Ethryon, Lord. I was born at Camber Keep, though my family was originally from the west, in the damp and green country.”

 

         “Do you enjoy living here, at Laffaysham, Ethryon?”

 

Ethryon looked as though he hadn’t considered the question before. “It is my home, Lord.”

 

“Call me Neal. I was a slave until very recently.”

 

“I could not, Lord.”

 

“I think you can. I order you to do so!”

 

The slave smiled suddenly. “Neal, then. Lord Laffay is a good Lord, the people here are pleasant to work for and not unreasonable as some nobility and freemen are.”

 

“You do the work for which you are well-suited?”

 

“For the most part.”

 

“And you laugh and sing and play?”

 

Ethryon hesitated. “On special occasions. Lord – Neal – you are from Steel?”

 

“Yes, I was a slave there, and now I have been adopted by Lord Steel.”

 

“You like Lord Steel?”

 

“I love Lord Steel. He has truly been as a loving father to me.”

 

Ethryon looked a little wistful.

 

“You have a father?”

 

“I used to. But though I respect and like my Lord it is not like that.”

 

“Probably it is easier at Steel. It is a very small Keep compared to Laffaysham. Lord Steel seems to know everyone there, mostly we enjoy each other’s company.”

 

“You wanted to see my collar, Neal?”

 

“It is interesting. Laffaysham slaves all have embroidered fabric collars, very beautiful.”

 

“Steel’s are..?”

 

Neal reached into his deep pocket and pulled his out. “I shall have to put it on, you can not see how the chains inter-twine when it is off.” He spread it out, and then fastened it around his neck.

 

Ethryon walked around him and then, with a glance for permission from Neal, fingered the delicate, interlocking, looping craft-chains. “Why do you keep it, if you are now free, Neal?”

 

“It is a symbol of my freedom – Lord Steel saved us from the Slave pens and a Slaver who treated me ill and wished to geld me. Then he gave me this to show me that he owned me and would protect me. Nothing has really changed, though our relationship has deepened, and I sometimes wear it even now.”

 

Ethryon smiled down at Neal. “I am glad we spoke. In a way, our Lord is also like a father, protecting, providing for us. I had not thought of the relationship that way. He is not, I think, as expressive towards each of us, and that could be because there are so many of us.”

 

“I am sure it is.”

 

“Let me lead you to my Lord, Neal.”

 

Lord and Lady Laffay, Lord and Lady Camber, Lord and Lady Sunder and Lord and Lady Betchem were all sitting around with their families and personal slaves and servants, all talking. Neal hesitated, but Lord Laffay saw him and gestured,

         “Well, if it is not Lord Steel’s youngest son who has little idea of protocol in formal meetings!”

 

Everyone turned and looked at Neal.

 

Neal, luckily, wasn’t shy. He bowed and replied, “I apologise most profusely, Lord Laffay. My feelings of urgency overcame my manners and I am sorry for speaking out of turn. Please, it is not a reflection of my Lord Steel’s respect for Laffaysham or her Lord and Lady.”

 

“Well, as you say, you come from Steel, and your father is known to be less reserved and strict than the rest of us…and in this it was good, that you had some useful thoughts to share. What is it that you seek, Neal?”

 

“I wondered if I could beg a boon, Lord Laffay, and ask if one of your kinsmen, the steward in charge of your muniment room, someone with a little knowledge would be available to show me around some of this most handsome and stout Keep, and also the art-work and statuary adorning her.”

 

“Is there anyone you have met while you are here that you would choose to show you, Neal?”

 

Now Neal felt awkward, but went on, “If the lady is free and willing to take me around and is interested in such things, the Lady Aramalitha, Lord Laffay. Otherwise, anyone with an interest in or knowledge of such things.”

 

There was a little conversation at this, but Neal kept his eyes on Lord Laffay, who looked at him with interest and then smiled a little. “I am sure she will find the time, Neal. Ethryon will run and fetch her for you.”

 

Ethryon bowed and did, indeed, run off down one of the corridors.

 

Neal perched on the edge of a wide-seated chair, and soon felt someone behind him, and it was his Lord Steel. He stood immediately, and Steel put a hand on his shoulder and smiled. He whispered, “Mozzie is doing his best to read every book in a library far bigger and older than ours!”

 

“Caerrovon!” Lord Betchem said, seeing him. “Join us!”

 

“I will, Sir!” Steel told him. “Neal, are you staying?”

 

“No, my Lord, I am waiting for a guide – ah, here she is!”

 

Steel glanced over and his smiled deepened. “I see. The fair Aramalitha. Enjoy yourselves, children!” He settled himself in the chair and Neal and Aramalitha walked away.

 

Neal said, softly, “Please feel free to find someone else to waste their time with the likes of me. I just wanted to see the beauty of the art and architecture of the Keep, and if it could be in your presence, so much the better, but I am sure you have many important things to do.”

 

“Oh, millions of things more important than looking after my Lord’s friend’s son and heir!” she smiled.

 

“That is exactly as I thought!” Neal smiled back.

 

“However, if I did any of them, my Lord might be displeased, so you are going to have to put up with me, Neal.”

 

They reached the corridor that ran the length of the main Keep building. They walked along, and Aramalitha explained the various portraits of early lords, ladies, children, warriors and slaves as well as horses (but few, compared to Steel.) They laughed a little at some of the more outrageous hairstyles and costumes of the older portraits, but he was not really paying full attention to the paintings when such a work of art walked beside him!

 

Neal wasn’t sure what would seem appropriate subjects of conversation with this girl who seemed so young and sheltered.

 

He asked, “Is there some pet name I could call you? Does everyone always call you ‘Aramalitha’?”

 

“Does everyone always call you ‘Neal’?” she retorted, and then her eyes widened as he smiled broadly. “Why is that so funny, Neal of Steel?”

 

“Well, no, I have not always been called Neal! But at least it is short!”

 

Aramalitha tipped her head on one side and said, “We are given names and use them. I have never heard anyone call your Lord anything else as a first name but Caerrovon, have you?”

 

“I think you shall be ‘Litha’, to me. Just to me, and just in case of emergencies where I need you to follow me out of a dangerous place and I have no time for ‘Aramalitha’!”

 

She chuckled. “So what other names have you? And why?”

 

Neal felt a sunden sinking sensation and quickly and calmly did what he knew to do to shield himself from his Lord, and did it _hard_ , hoping she couldn’t read around it.

 

She stared at him with wider-than-usual eyes. “Why do you shut me out, Neal?”

 

Neal looked down, suddenly wanting to be elsewhere. Almost anywhere else. “I have secrets, Litha. I should not have asked you to give up your time.”

 

“You speak as though I should fear you, Neal, yet I know you. I can always read a person’s core, their meaning…you are gentle. I have heard that Earthlings can be violent, but you are not, Neal?”

 

“I have brought trouble to many people.”

 

“I would hesitate to argue with the heir to a Keep, and my favourite uncle’s son, so I will say nothing except to tell you that we are now standing in front of an early representation of our Keep. Some of that façade was damaged in the Keep Wars, and replaced by the one you saw when you arrived.”

 

“I think the Keep Wars did your family a favour. It is now more graceful and yet no less imposing.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

They walked together, a thousand light-years apart, speaking inconsequentialities. Neal wanted to run. Neal wanted to kiss her. Neither seemed sensible or appropriate or polite. Eventually, as they reached the end of the corridor, he turned to her and asked, “When you use your …empathy…what does it feel like? What do you see?”

 

She smiled. “I think that is like me, if I was blind, asking you what you see when you look with your eyes. There is no way of explaining. It is more feelings. I am not a telepath. Some of the races are, and they can usually interact with the empaths amongst us, but the gifts are different.”

         She turned and walked on and, not looking a him, she said, “I know you are very sad and feel some shame, a huge regret. I know you like me, but wish to leave this area. These are emotional paradoxes I feel in adults all the time, yet you are younger than I.”

 

 _Oh,_ thought Neal, _it only needed that!_

“Now I have made you feel worse!” she said, turning to face him. “Why?”

 

He smiled a little, and put his desire to know her into the past. He was getting better at doing that…his dad, his mom, Ellen, Kate, Rebecca, Peter and El…move on. Hurt no-one, stick a band-aid on the bruise, it’ll fade.

 

Much to his astonishment, she reached out and took his arm and shook him a little. “Stop it! I am right here!”

 

He smiled again, though it was hard-won. “I apologise. I am not used to dealing with Sensitives of your calibre and if I am impolite, I am sorry.”

 

“You wanted to get to know me, you felt something for me?” she asked.

 

He stood as tall as possible, knowing it meant very little to her, and said, “You are very attractive and yes, I thoughtlessly wished to find who this unusual lady was.

“Having taken thought, it was a…poor choice. I may be younger than you in terms of the seasons here, but I have been many people, lived many lives, seen and felt many things I would never wish for you to feel even second hand.”

 

“Oh,” she said, thoughtfully.

 

“So would it be acceptable to my Lady Aramalitha if Neal of Steel walked her to her friends or family and, with many thanks for a pleasant interlude, bowed himself out of her life?”

 

She looked down and, without glancing up, nodded. She walked a little way ahead of him and they exchanged no further words till she came to a room and said, hardly lifting her chin, “I should be working here.”

 

“I apologise for taking you away from your tasks, and thank you again, Lady Aramalitha.” He bowed over her fingers and kissed them. She glanced up and whisked herself into the room and shut the door with a snap. He swallowed and shielded as strongly as he knew and walked away rapidly. She’d tears in her eyes, he would have sworn she did.

 

 

 

 

The End of Chapter Three…………………….

 

 

 

 

And fade to bleak...poor Neal!

 

Comments always welcome.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A muniment room used to be a place where all the ancestral house's or castle's documents were kept and maintained, often by the steward. Now it can also mean a fire-safe room for vital documents. I just couldn't find it in the thesaurus or spell-check, but it does exist, promise!


	4. Moving On

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They Lord-Keepers wrap up their visit and the Steel contingent returns home. After talking to Steel and Mozzie, Neal starts making other plans.

 

 

 

The next day was one of the longest and bleakest Neal had ever endured.

 

_And considering some of the days of my life, that’s saying something!_

 

He couldn’t understand why _this_ girl, whom he hardly knew, seemed of such great consequence…but then, despite what others might think, Neal was extremely particular.

        Yes, he flirted with everyone, tried to make all he met feel that he thought they were special. That was part of who he was, and part of his chosen profession, after all. But he had actually become deeply involved with very few, slept with very few, felt this strongly about very few. He usually shied away from casual sex for the simple reason that, for him, it didn’t feel right, and it wasn’t as enjoyable…

… _I’m a damned romantic!_...

…and from a professional standpoint, unless it was an integral part of a con, it made him vulnerable in many ways.

 

 

So he continued to be polite and courteous to everyone he met, he kept his emotions tightly shielded, but that in itself made his Lord look at him strangely. He walked the corridors alone, seeing some of the beauty but without much attentiveness, his efforts focussed on trying hard not to imagine a pretty guide walking alongside

 

 

He only felt drawn into one gallery of many. He knew many of the artists represented here from his studies. He had even concentrated on some of these pieces and he enjoyed seeing the originals close at hand. Everywhere there was tasteful embellishment. Openings were mostly ogival arches, the windows lancet and the outer doors were ogee….

       Neal was glad that the lords and ladies over the generations hadn’t felt the need to try every different style that came along, as had happened to some heritage English homes, creating dizzying altercations of shapes and expressions as one moved through the building, as mongrel-looking as a platypus and not nearly so graceful (at least when said platypus was under water) !

 

Here, it was as though one mind had created the vaulted ceilings, the intricate tessellated floors, the stained glass. If Neal had to characterise it to someone from Earth, he would possibly have said that it was a style of nicely blended aspects of the best of early, uncluttered gothic with smaller touches of _art nouveau_. He enjoyed it.

 

 

He wanted to go home.

 

 

After another formal dinner, the Lords and Ladies and heirs – and their personal servants, who seemed to stand a great deal at these functions, Neal thought – gathered in smaller groups within the Greatroom. Lord Steel was in a group with Lord Laffay and Lord Sunder, and their heirs. Mozzie sat at Steel’s right hand but, with that easy, casual grace that characterised him, Neal settled at Steel’s feet.

He could tell his Lord was surprised that he did this in this formal company, but was very aware that the other Lords shared a startled glance. He leaned on his Lord’s shin, and after a moment or two his Lord, as was his custom, gentled his hair. Neal glanced up and back with love in his eyes, and Steel and Mozzie smiled back at him.

 

He did not take much part in their discussion of the seasons this growing season, how well or badly the crops and animals had done. He merely wanted to affirm to Lord Laffay, especially, that he respected his Lord, after being a little abrupt and thoughtless at the meeting.

 

He wanted to go home and climb into bed. And cover his head with a pillow.

 

That evening, he was careful to remove himself early, bathed and was in bed when his Lord entered the suite. He was reasonably sure that Lord Steel knew he was awake, but he asked no awkward questions. Neal rose early, visited the stables and only joined the company for breakfast.

After this there was a short meeting, but no-one had come up with any new ideas and everyone seemed a little irritable. Other than asking everyone to make sure they stayed in pairs or small groups at all times, they were no further to solving the mystery or protecting anyone from the strange deaths.

 

When they were finally on the road, Mozzie kept the group occupied with his unusually loquacious description of the Laffaysham library. He described the binding methods used on the oldest books, the velum scrolls, the lovely illustrated manuscripts from thousands of winters before. Neal could quite happily have brained him before they broke stride for a mid-day meal, and yet was simultaneously pleased that Mozzie stopped Steel from asking any probing questions!

 

However, Steel was also sensitive enough merely to say, “Is everything well with you, Neal?” and, when Neal shrugged a little, left him alone.

 

By the time they reached Steel Keep, Neal had succeeded in accepting the fact that this girl, the first who had ever made him feel completely present and serene – until he realised how unfair it would be to befriend someone with whom he could share so little – was not going to be a part of his life. In a way, it was a blessing to discover this fact so early on in the relationship before they had invested many hours, weeks or years in it! Now, if he told himself that often enough….

 

He was pleased to be home, and laughed with Ophera about things in the kitchen and made a point to go and apologise to Leran. It was never good to have one of the most accomplished killers in the place annoyed with him, after all!

 

 

Neal and Mozzie still shared their original suite, and since Neal got there first, he showered and was ready for bed when Mozzie came in and went through to the bathroom. At that moment, there was a gentle knock and, at Neal’s request, the door opened and Lord Steel entered.

 

Neal sighed.

 

“If all things are well with you, my son, I have lost my empathy completely. You do not need to tell me, but it is often that some problem may yield to the logic or inspiration of two, when it resists that of one.”

 

“We say, ‘a trouble shared is a trouble halved; a blessing shared is a blessing doubled’,” Neal said to him. “But it is not always true. Sometimes it is better to ignore the trouble.”

 

“So there is something that troubles you, Neal?”

 

“I will tell you, but you can do nothing, my Lord. I know if I do not you will worry on my behalf and truly, it is of little consequence in the overall scheme of things, especially when people are dying.”

 

“May I sit?”

 

“Of course, my Lord!”

 

Steel draped himself over the big armchair in which Neal could easily curl up like a cat. He enjoyed reading there sometimes, if the library was in use. Neal sat on the bed and pulled the throw over his shoulders. Even with the well-established fire, the room wasn’t very warm. Both Mozzie and Neal preferred it that way.

 

“So now, son, tell me so I do not worry about you!”

 

“It is your cousin, Lord.”

 

“Yes. I had thought it to be that when you so assiduously avoided any mention of her.”

 

“I have no idea how many seasons she has lived, but more than I. But I have experienced so much that I would not, could never ask her to share. I would be shielding her against so much all the time.

         “Even physically…she is a virgin. I am, in many ways, not.”

 

“You think that your proximity may sully her, Neal?”

 

“Am I foolish, Lord? Tell me, for I have never seen you take a woman to your bed – do men here come to their marriage beds as virginal as their wives, in general? I know we played that Cara was your baby, but you were a childless Lord, it would have been sensible to – to – put in play an heir.”

 

“I thought not to have to have this discussion with two sons who tell me they are fully grown,” Steel groaned comically, “yet here we are.

         “Am I to take it that most men on your world do not remain inexperienced?”

 

“In times past, my Lord, women were expected to… it was a terrible insult to a husband if his bride was not a virgin. The men of those days, however, usually had much experience when they married. It was one – one of many – discriminations against women. Women carried the burden of childbirth and a woman living even sixty years ago…oh, I need Mozzie! I think a woman on Earth about twenty-five or thirty of your four-seasons? – if found to be pregnant out of wedlock would be considered low-class, of low morals, despite the fact that she obviously did not make the baby on her own!

         “Scientists developed a chemical way for women to decide if they fell pregnant, and that freed them from that fear, and slowly over the seasons it has become normal for both men and women to indulge in sexual intercourse with at least a few partners before settling on one partner for life – or at least, an extended period of time.”

 

Steel thought about this. Then he said, “Does that make for happier marriages?”

 

Neal smiled. “I do not think it makes them better or worse! We now can divorce easily. Before, the marriage had to remain until death, but they were often not unending bliss! Perhaps some couples worked harder to make their marriages satisfying because they had no easy way out of them, but I think those same couples work now to make their marriages work, or at least a high per cent age. Especially later marriages, anyway.”

 

“So you would say you were experienced, Neal?”

 

Neal looked down. “Experienced enough, my Lord. Too experienced for someone like your sweet Aramalitha. It is not only that. Not only the sexual aspect, though I think that would weigh greatly with me if I were she: What we each bring to the relationship is not equal in quality. I have never had to consider that situation on Earth, but for a Sensitive, especially, it seems unfair.

“But also, I am not like any other man she may meet.

“I am an Earthling, and an Earthling with a sad childhood and a criminal past...and I have been in prison. That alone I would have to assiduously suppress from her. It is not something she should experience in any way. I have been imprisoned, shackled to Peter and the FBI, unable to make decisions for myself, I have been captured and enslaved and lived in filth and fear. I have seen too much, been hurt and have hurt too many people. There are depths of darkness in my soul, my memory.

         “I realised all that and withdrew from her. I may have upset her, my Lord, and for that I am sorry. But I am not good enough for her and I – I felt too much, I do not want her as a friend.”

 

“But my son, do we not always share things with friends and lovers? Good and bad?”

 

Neal smiled a little sadly. “Because of my earlier…way of life, I was extraordinarily careful and selective about what I shared with anybody. I have never shared everything that has happened to me…not with you, my Lord, Mozzie – Peter. Certainly never a lover. And if I did, unless I deliberately opened up to _you,_ Lord, it would be _words_. Someone could imagine it. You might be able to experience it a little, if you chose to open to me and comprehend why I am as I am, for instance. But I think this girl would feel things as though they were happening, and perhaps happening to _her._

“That I could never risk, my Lord! She deserves better.”

 

Lord Steel got up and sat beside Neal and put an arm round his shoulders. “I am sorry. Truly, I am sorry that _you_ have these things in your memory! I am sorry that as yet you haven’t shared them, for that may lessen their hold on you.

“I think most men feel less than equal to their wives, if they love and honour them, in any marriage. But Aramalitha is full Laffay and very sensitive. They always say such children are born with three layers less skin than the rest of us. You may be right, Neal, to protect her.”

 

“Most of the time, my Lord, I ignore those bad memories completely, unless something or someone reminds me. I think it is a necessity for someone such as I, to seal them away.

“But when I …felt, realised, whatever, how Litha could read me, it was as though an abyss opened before our feet, all the darkness ready to swallow her….” He knew that his Lord could feel his breathing quicken.

 

“I hope, Neal, that one day you will share those dark recollections things with me. I know it demands an enormous amount of trust, and I am not wanting to pressure you. But I think you know that I do not judge you, would never feel anything but sympathy for you, and perhaps we could work things out together, my Neal.”

 

Neal looked up at him. “You have no idea how much that means to me, my Lord.”

 

Steel said nothing, but pulled Neal against him. After a few moments, Neal, feeling more unmasked than he was used to, and as yet comfortable with, changed the subject a little.

“Your empathy, Lord, does it enable your people to understand women better than the males of Earth do?”

 

Steel chuckled at this. “We sometimes know exactly what they are feeling, Neal, which does not help us know at all why they are feeling it!

“Though I cannot be sure you have taken the correct path, it seems that you are very certain. But do not leave the poor girl without some explanation. Write to her, tell her you were very attracted by her beauty, her sweetness, something of that nature, and that you feel totally unworthy because of your past.”

 

“I will try, my Lord. These are letters that do not easily write themselves!”

 

They could hear Mozzie leaving the bathroom, and his Lord gave Neal a tight one-armed hug and said, “I do sympathise, my son. We have all had affections for someone whom was not an appropriate object of such feelings. If you two are not right for each other, just as well to end it now, but do it kindly.”

 

He rose, and left, saying ‘Good sleep’ to Mozzie on the way. Mozzie came through and Neal told him briefly about his short delusion.

 

“Oh, Neal! I am truly sorry. You deserve to find someone well-suited to you.”

 

“You are lucky, Mozzie, not to need others very much.”

 

Mozzie looked at him and paused a moment. Mozzie made a point of never baring his soul. _The less someone knows of me, the less they have to use against me._ But this time he said, “If that is true, then I am lucky that most people do not find me in any way desirable, and I came to know that very young and saved myself a great deal of grief. You can get almost any woman, and many men, and therefore have all sorts of chances of getting hurt!”

 

“But now you have Sally!” Neal exclaimed, reacting to the muted pain in Mozzie’s voice.

 

“Now I have Sally,” Mozzie agreed. “Finally, a girl perspicacious enough to love me despite my exterior.”

 

“That is not what Sally said, if you remember! She saw you and knew you for a sexy, handsome man in an instant!”

 

Mozzie smiled. It was a smile Neal had not seen before Sally and Mozzie had become a permanent couple after returning to Earth: softer than any other Mozzie-smile. “She is truly blessed with exceptional vision. Good or bad, I will not judge.

         “That is not to say I did not feel lonely and worthless as a man in that way for many decades of my life, my handsome friend.”

 

“It is sad that so many of us judge book-covers, for you are truly the best friend I could ever wish for, Mozzie. You are worth a million of me.”

 

“If you are humbled because you feel unworthy of this particular maiden, I shall enjoy this unusual situation for the short season it lasts, Neal!”

 

“Perhaps I do not say it often, but what I have just told you is true at all times. But I _do_ need to keep my confidence levels high if I am to be the front man: my looks then are the only crutch I can lean on, since, though I am not stupid, I certainly do not have your brains!”

 

Mozzie considered a moment, then changed from Sheel, which they had been speaking, to English, and said, “I concede your appraisal, mon frère.”

 

He walked over to where Neal was sitting and leaned over to give him a hug. Neal hugged back, completely taken-aback. Mozzie so seldom expressed himself physically. Perhaps Sally was doing him more good than even Neal knew.

 

 

 

Neal put the puzzle of the deaths out of his mind for three days. He struggled with the letter to Aramalitha, but eventually he felt he had put down his feelings in a short but accurate few paragraphs that would not cause her to feel pity for him, nor anger.

 

He had little trouble putting her charm down as a portrait. He did a small watercolour study for himself (which was pure and foolish self-indulgence, as he should try and put her out of his mind completely after this) and using that, did one in oils for her. It was also quite small, and as he did it he smiled: every other girl he’d ever dated had her dark side…Rebecca had seemed wholesome, but her alternate ego was the deadliest. Sara was bright and loyal but brittle and at times downright scary! Alex was mostly snide and smart, but soft and true under that. Kate - well, he had to admit now that her shadow self was a complete mystery to him.

 

He painted Litha as he’d first met her, the sweet, open, questioning upward gaze, her pale hair threaded with ribbons, the pale dress just hinting at smooth shoulders, a slight peach across her cheeks…but all the focus was on her liquid eyes. He gave the painting and the letter to Mozzie and asked him to wrap them and get the parcel off to Laffaysham when the pigments were all dry. Mozzie asked why he couldn’t do it and he shrugged enigmatically.

 

Mozzie, understanding that this would be a final good-bye that Neal didn’t want to say, nodded and looked at the portrait, holding it to the light, turning it. He raised an eyebrow at his friend. “Do you honestly know how talented you are?”

 

Neal smiled sadly and patted his shoulder and walked away.

 

 

Neal asked Joster if he had a companion he trusted and Joster told him that he and his younger brother was close and that he was a good, strong young man. Neal met him, and sighed. Merritt was taller by half-a-head than Joster, truly towering over Neal. However, Neal was also aware that his shorter-than-average reach was a severe handicap when it came to sword-play, and when he heard Joster and Merritt teasing each other about their relative strengths with swords, daggers, maces and other weapons, asked them if they would mind accompanying him to the other Keeps, if Lord Steel would agree.

 

He appeared in his Lord’s study, flanked on either side by tall, straight, young, fit and accomplished warriors. He grinned a little to himself and wondered if they would mind if he had them dressed as the twin pillars of Justice and Mercy, one all in black, the other all in white! They seemed more architectural than biological!

 

         “I think it would be a good idea if I got to know our neighbours, my Lord,” he said. “And since you wanted to ensure my safety, I have acquired the services of Joster and Merritt, who are prepared to accompany me.”

 

Steel looked up blankly from his papers. “You want to do – what?”

 

“I paid attention to what some of the people at Laffaysham were saying. You work hard, you alone have kept this Keep on a good footing with the other four Keeps by your own efforts. I am your heir and I have done very little to deserve that title, either before or after receiving it.

         “Now we have a mystery and someone out there knows something, even if they know not what they know. I know we met all the lords and ladies and heirs at the formal meeting, but the person who knows something may be a child at Betchem or an aged man who mends tack in Sunder.”

 

Steel stood up, came round the desk and leaned on it. “Joster, Merritt, go to the kitchen and eat something – I know you can always do that!”

         Merritt chuckled and backed out of the door, but Joster waited, looking at Neal. Neal grinned. “Yes, go eat something, Joster.” Joster gave him a half-bow and left. Neal looked back at Steel. “I am surprised he did not click his heels!”

 

Steel sighed. “Look. I know what you are attempting to do, Neal, and I appreciate it. But you are a child by our standards. No-one expects you to start making Keep visits on my behalf!”

 

“I know Mozzie is older and perhaps would be accepted more easily, but he is never going to do this. He just will not.

         “And while I hesitate to suggest changes to my elders, betters and superiors, I think your culture might have to rethink the age of species that come from other planets. It seems as though there might be more of us. How would you like people to think you are a child, my Lord, with all you have accomplished? Yet to my people, other than your height, you seem just a youth!”

 

“You look like a child to us, Neal! You are the height and weight of an older child, here.”

 

“That is not my fault. On Earth, you would find it difficult to find chairs, beds, shoes that fit you! If I go on your behalf and speak to people at the other Keeps, we might start making people think of me as more than a child. Or at least an intelligent, able child!”

 

Steel though a moment. “Is this because I call you ‘my boy’, and expect some obedience?”

 

Neal chuckled. “You have experienced only a limited amount of obedience from Moz and me and honestly, in return for your protection and love, my Lord, it is of no consequence. You would expect no less from your son, however old or large he was, would you not? Or any slave, for that matter!

“And any term of affection you use is good. I like being your son, your boy. I have had no-one to lean on in the same way, never have in all my life, and I enjoy it.”

 

“I have come to expect a level of compliance from you, Neal! It is from Peter that I know I would never have been given submission!”

 

They grinned at each other.

 

“You want to go?”

 

“One of us must. As an individual and not as part of your retinue, or our authority is invalidated.”

 

“I will write letters to cover you on your travels and letters to each Lord begging their hospitality. When will you leave, Neal?”

 

“I would like to speak to various people here and ask them what they would like to know about the different Keeps and how they run things. I know we have a far superior stable to Laffaysham! And I will ask Brak about the details and have him brief Joster, since he has been in charge of your journeys and your father’s.

         “Oh, and I must explain to Mozzie.”

 

“Let me know your plans as they develop, Neal.”

 

 

 

End of Chapter Four

 

Comments always welcome

 

 


	5. Three for the Road

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal, Joster and Merritt make a start to their journey

 

 

The weather was good when the three set out. Brak had insisted on a closed wagon, rain-and-snow-gear, food and water and extra horses for each of them. And that was just the start!

 

“We are travelling to visit the nearest four Armed Keeps!” Neal complained to the others when they finally got away. “They are friendly and I am sure will supply fresh food and water, if nothing else, for the next leg of our journey!”

 

“You should see the lists he gave Merritt, who is designated our trail manager!” Joster told him, having got over his need for excessive protocol somewhere in their united struggle against taking half of Steel Keep with them! “You may not believe this, Master Neal, but between them they even wrote out a _list of lists!_ ”

 

Neal laughed. Then he said, “You need not call me Master Neal, Joster, except perhaps when we are in company at the other Keeps.”

 

“You must just get used to it, Master Neal. Brak called our Lord Master Caerrovon before he took the knot – and still does, but that is the privilege of an old retainer such as himself…but pray do not tell him I called him that! He is a comparatively strict disciplinarian of slaves he feels are under his management…which is all of us except those that are specifically under Klenalth at the stables, Leran in the armouries, or kitchen slaves, where he gives place to his wife!”

 

“Yes, but - ”

 

“And, Master Neal, it would be too easy for us to make a mistake if we get into the habit of not calling you Master Neal…”

 

Neal sighed. He always found it easy to switch to calling Mozzie by some other name for the duration of a heist – or whatever - and answering to another name entirely. But they’d had a lot of practise! He couldn’t remember it being difficult, even in the beginning, but he supposed it was all to do with motivation. Just getting a name wrong could mean the difference between wealth and death.

 

The little group of advisors had settled on it being best if they went to Sunder first. He had read up some of the archives on the relationship between Steel and Sunder Keeps and something about Sunder itself and its peoples.

 

All the Keeps had some land set over for the growing of crops, and feed-crops and the grazing of animals. Each Keep had a wood-lot of extensive size. Each Keep had access to stone quarries and sand and, of course, water. Around each Keep there were areas of other industries, factories, retail stores, warehouses, farmer’s markets of differing sizes and the homes of freemen, from mansions down to hovels, some with gardens and factories, shops and stores of their own. But the basic flavour of these five Keeps – and, he assumed, all the others on the planet – were different.

 

Sunder Keep worked chiefly with metal. They did not bother with artistic embellishments, they were tough and practical. They made wagons and coaches and chains and portcullises. At Laffaysham, Neal had noticed that the Sundermen were the only attendees which all sported beards…neatly trimmed ‘door-knocker’ beards, and their hair was darker than any of the other representatives. And from what he could see, only men had attended.

Sunder Keep had a good business going, because the planet wasn’t nearly as affluent as Earth in terms of metal content and Sunder was sitting on a rich and large seam of ironstone. Neal couldn’t help thinking that Sundermen felt just a little as though the other four of the Alliance Keeps were in their debt because of the trade in metal and metal goods, vital to so many things, including weapons.

 

 

They bedded down on the third evening, close to Sunder Keep. It was a large, blocky, solid Keep on a rugged hill with two chunky bell-towers rising very high, out-of-proportion tall, from what looked to be a solid-looking rectangular building. The stonework was all intended to intimidate. There were no trees close to the Keep, though dark forests ringed it on two sides, but kept at least eight arrow-flights from the walls, the records showed. This was archaic, as bows and arrows were now outlawed.

 

In the morning, they spent some time making sure they all looked crisp and neat before continuing.

 

As soon as they had broken camp, they were approached by ten mounted and heavily-armed men who had obviously been watching them. They stopped, Neal a little ahead of his two guards. He smiled at the ten men, who did not return this pleasantry.

 

“I come from Steel Keep to pay a short visit to your lovely Sunder Keep. Please, would one of you take this letter to your Lord and Lady?” He reached into his over-shirt and pulled out his Lord’s letter to Lord and Lady Sunder. Lady Sunder had not attended the meeting at Laffaysham, so he had no idea what to expect.

 

One of the men approached, while the rest observed closely. _I wonder if they think we are some kind of threat, the three of us against so many?_ Neal thought.

 

The rider turned and galloped off towards the building. The rest of them stayed as still as statues. Neal spent a little while comparing the Steel Keep’s lovely, tall, beautifully kept horses to the shorter, shaggy horses that certainly looked and had to be strong to hold the heavily armoured men. Then he calmly began talking to Joster and Merritt about their home and family.

         The other men became restive, but Neal didn’t care. He wasn’t going to spend a half hour in a staring match with some soldiers!

 

The rider returned and murmured something to his comrades and then said, quite politely, “Please, Master Heir to Steel, follow us and be welcome at Sunder Keep.”

 

“Why, thank you!” Neal replied. They all moved up the hill and entered under the intimidating raised portcullis, all set with outsized bolts, spikes and serrated edges. It reminded Neal of nothing more than a giant’s cheese-grater, and he ducked his head to hide a smile.

 

He was met by the Heir to Sunder, who stalked out as though annoyed to be taken from his work, but was pleasant enough.

 

“I am Tallk,” he said, “Heir to Sunder. Lord of Sunder means no disrespect, but is away from the Castle at present. We were unaware of your impending visit.” The dialect of Sunder was a little different to the others, more guttural, but perfectly understandable.

 

Neal dismounted and handed his reins to Joster. “I am Neal, Tallk, younger Heir to Steel. No need for the Lord to inconvenience himself. I am here informally, on a friendly visit, since I have not had the chance to meet all of Lord Steel of Steel Keep – my father’s – friends and allies, due to pressing business afar. This and my apparent youth made it less urgent, but now I feel the time is right.”

 

Tallk smiled more genuinely. “I shall send word to Father not to hurry back till his business is concluded. We have breakfasted, but I hear you have not,” _– so the men were watching! –_ “so I am sure that you and your men would like something to eat and drink? I will show you to your rooms, then you can eat. My man will take your horses and wagon, the beasts will be placed in some prime stalls and their comfort ensured.”

 

All the internal walls were painted in something that looked like white-wash, since all the rock used was dark reddish-brown, showing the iron content. Without the wash, it would have been very dark, this lightened the interior, but there was no attempt to make it beautiful.

 

As they walked, Joster and Merritt behind them, Tallk asked, “How long do you think to be staying, Neal?”

 

Neal smiled up at him. “I know not, Tallk. I wish to be no trouble, but I find your Keep very interesting: the strength and boldness of the design, simple and practical. Probably a few days only, if that would sit well with your father and mother?”

 

Tallk smiled back. “Surely it will…and you have it correctly. We are a simple, practical people, Neal, compared to, say, the Laffays.”

 

“Yes, they seemed more…imaginative – um - ?”

 

“Exactly!” Tallk grinned suddenly. “We would rather spend our time and resources on substance, things that matter.”

 

Neal smiled back and nodded a little…enough to give Tallk the impression that he was in total agreement with him.

 

The three were shown a suite on the third storey with a view from the window of rocks and trees and fields of crops, and then fences and houses with lush greenery about them: trees and fields of vegetables and some bright flowers here and there. The view of what Neal assumed were Sunder’s tenant farmers extended as far as he could see from the window.

 

The rooms were just large enough, had three beds and chairs and everything absolutely necessary. A maidservant or slave was just finishing making the beds and another had brought water and fruit.

 

“You are very kind, Tallk. Truly, if I can just have a look around your lovely Keep, just speak to some of your slaves without interrupting their work, and then find out a little more about yourself and Lord and Lady Sunder, I would be most pleased. I – I want to get a feel of how our Keeps work together, and perhaps ways of making our partnership even more useful to both our families.”

 

“You sound very sensible, Neal. I shall leave you. When you are ready, this girl, Yana, will lead you to the kitchens and the morning room.”

 

“Thank you, Tallk.”

 

The three travellers washed and made a good breakfast of plain fare, and then Tallk himself accompanied Neal, followed by Joster, round the main areas of the Keep. There were suits of armour, lots and lots of weapons: arrows, bows, pikes, what seemed like thousands of swords and daggers, many that had been used in a single battle in arrangements spread across the wall.

Many of the weapons had little framed histories beside them: who had won what battle with the piece. They were all in working order and perfectly maintained. There were also some blocky statues, but much fewer portraits, only those of the Lords and Ladies of the Keep (all looking forbidding and uncomfortable, like those old photographs where the subject has his neck in a vice to keep it still for the duration of the long exposure, Neal thought) and their families, and a few showing the Keep itself. There were no tapestries other than one showing a bloody battle amidst a ridiculously flourishing and blossoming forest, a study in juxtaposition! It was almost certainly a gift, possibly from Laffaysham Keep! There were few other attempts to soften or warm the look of the internal walls.

 

The ceilings were low, the building rudimentary. Walls and doorways were square. The floors had been worn to something resembling a smooth curve, deepest in the centre of the room, corridor or step, but the walls were roughly hewn. The furniture was massive and plain in the extreme, except for wrought ironwork of great complexity and metal fretwork making up screens and chair-backs and banisters around the Greatroom and Diningroom, where the polished floors were made up of huge blocks of wood, like parquet.

 

Neal found it a little depressing and claustrophobic.

 

He had a dreadful ten minutes when he found himself mentally giving Litha a detailed and humorous description of Sunder and how it compared negatively to the lovely Laffaysham…

 

He was left to change for the midday meal, and did so quickly. After a brief verbal battle with Joster and Merritt, Neal left the suite of rooms alone and walked quietly and quickly down the corridor, not obviously sneaking, should he be observed, but wishing to find out more. He came up to a corner and heard Tallk’s voice and stopped.

 

“We know no such thing, Jebb! Yes, he seems very young, but far from stupid. Give him a chance!”

 

Someone else said something and Tallk replied, “That is mere rumour and folk-tales from the uneducated! He seemed polite, sincere and there is nothing (here he used a word Neal did not know) about him.”

 

Neal moved back, hurried to his rooms and asked his two men what the word meant.

 

“I am not sure, Master Neal,” Joster said. “Their speech here is not pure Sheel, as you will have heard. They use many slang terms and phrases, and some Standard mixed in.”

 

Neal wrote the word phonetically, wanting to remember it and ask someone later.

 

Lord and Lady Sunder and their second son, Jebb, as well as many other relatives were at the table for the meal, served by their slaves. Merritt stood behind Neal, but, thankfully, they had decided between themselves that he shouldn’t wear livery. None of the Sunder slaves were wearing theirs.

 

It reminded Neal a little of accounts of a low-class tavern in Regency England. Well, perhaps not _low_ class...but there were tankards of ale, no water or wine (heaven forbid, tea!) most of the men ate at least some of the meal with their fingers, and everyone spoke to each other at will, and rather loudly. There was about a four-to-one male to female ratio, for some reason, and no children present.

 

Some of the men looked sideways at Neal, probably thinking him young, but there was no open scorn or animosity. He stood out like a tropical plant on a gravel-field : none of them wore any other colour but brown, rusts and donkey browns through to near-black. He was in a dark green suit, the least bright thing in his Lucilla-made wardrobe.

 

He was seated between Lord and Lady Sunder, and Lord Sunder immediately turned to him and grinned a little. “You were out of line, talking out of turn at the formal hearings at Laffaysham!”

 

“Yes, Lord Sunder, I was. I apologised to Lord Laffay for it, I am not used to such rigidity.”

 

“Good thing!” Lord Sunder nodded emphatically. “Stuffy bunch! You had some useful ideas, lad!”

 

“Oh, well, thank you. I should have followed their rules…their Keep, after all!”

 

“They come here seldom,” Lady Sunder commented from his other side. “Prefer a different style!”

 

“Well, our Keep is smaller, too – like Steel!” Lord Sunder remarked. “I think the old Lord Steel… your Lord’s grandfather… liked it that way, which is why he split his Keep in two! Clever, the Steel’s. Always liked ‘em.”

 

“I am fond of my Lord, myself!” Neal grinned.

 

“And they all come here soon enough if it is special swords or armour or some such that they want, or need! Then our style is just fine!”

 

Lady Sunder asked him where he was from and he tried to tell her without raising his voice too much.

 

“So you did what, on your home world?”

 

Neal had previously decided that a carefully cropped curriculum vitae was the order of the day! He said, “I was working with a government department that caught criminals. People who stole or – or fooled other people out of their money or assets?”

 

“How interesting!” she said, and passed him more ale.

 

“Yes, it was, very.” ( _Sometimes!)_

 

“So you had been working for many seasons?”

 

“Yes. I started working for myself when I was very young, but I was working in one capacity or another for about… the seasons were of course not the same…about twenty four-seasons of our planet around our star, which is the same as about seven or eight four-seasons here.”

 

“And then you were captured and enslaved?”

 

“Yes.” He wondered how the story had got round the planet so fast! “With some co-workers and friends. We were blessed to be bought by a Lord of one of the Five Keeps – Lord Steel.”

 

“You are young to be heir to a Keep!” Jebb said, loudly. He sounded drunk, but the way they all swallowed ale with every mouthful, he couldn’t possibly have been, Neal thought.

 

Neal laughed. “Well, you know the story of my Lord. It was his thought that though I and my brother are a little young, so, too, is he, and the children of his body would be much younger still!”

 

There was some general laughter at that, and nods of heads. “His father, rest him,” Lord Sunder said, “was a stubborn and hard-headed old goat! He should have re-married and begat many sons and daughters!”

 

Neal grinned a little. “I never knew the old Lord, of course, but can not think you are far from right, Lord Sunder!”

 

He turned to Lady Sunder and asked, “I have met two of your strapping sons, Lady, are you blessed with daughters as healthy?”

 

The conversation waned a little. Neal glanced around, judging expressions. Lady Sunder looked at her husband and then said, “They are with the children, Neal.”

 

“Aah, that is good! I teach, at Steel Keep. I would love to meet your children! Do you have a big school?”

 

There was a definite softening of the atmosphere. Neal relaxed a little. He had found the rough-and-rugged Sunder’s soft spot: they loved their children.

 

 

 

End of Chapter 5

 

Okay, it's not much, but just to make up for people who were disappointed to find the glossary! Seems not many are reading this, but hope those who are like the next couple of chapters.


	6. School is in Session

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal goes to school and starts some lessons...

 

 

 

 

 

 

That morning, after a little reconnoitring to find some little pretty things in the village on each side of the castle ( a much smaller settlement than around Steel), and some vigorous exercise in the company of Joster and Merritt, he very purposefully collected Lady Sunder and asked her if she would be so kind as to introduce him to the teachers and children, as he would feel shy doing so on his own.

 

She, plus three large, deep-bosomed and powerful ladies-in-waiting who, Neal thought, probably could have taken on Leran, Steel and Joster, at least if the warriors were unarmed, took him along the long and draughty passageways that seemed inevitable in the castles of Neal’s growing acquaintance, and entered into a small quadrangle and across to the large classrooms.

 

All the children scrambled to their feet at the entrance of the Lady of the Keep, and Lady Sunder introduced him. All the children in the room chorused, “Good day, Sir Neal of Steel,” which made Neal feel that at least he should have a suit of armour, a large and fully caparisoned war-horse, and a lance! - (which wouldn’t have fitted under the ceilings!) He said good-day, and asked if it were possible for him to talk to all the school children together for a candle-mark or two.

 

The children already loved him: he was disrupting their school day completely! When they had all repaired to the school hall, and the children were settled, he told them he was from Steel, drew a map on the convenient slate-board set there and explained a few of the differences between Steel and Sunder, making Sunder sound very important, large and sophisticated and feeling glad that he never did have much conscience about lying through his back teeth.

 

They asked him what he did, and he told them that he was the second heir, and that he also was the Keep Artist…well, he had never been so crowned, but the position was open and, he felt, his by default!

 

He took up the different coloured chalks and quickly drew their Keep as seen from the road, and then did a more detailed portrait of Lady Sunder, emphasising her good points. While doing it, Neal wondered how anyone could think to be a portrait painter and _not_ something of a conman! The children were entranced with this, but then he took the three black-board erasers and juggled them up the aisle and down again, throwing them one by one to three of the largest boys, who had been looking a little bored.

 

He started doing little magic tricks such as making a piece of chalk disappear and ‘finding’ it behind the teacher’s ear, tearing a piece of paper and making it whole again and so on. Then he took out a gold coin and asked the teacher to scratch an X on its surface and getting Lady Sunder’s most forbidding lady-in-waiting to hold it tightly between her fingers. He covered her hands with a kerchief and walked down the aisle, looking for the shyest, plainest little boy in the place. Having found him, he stayed several steps away and asked, “What is your name, handsome lad?”

 

Everyone looked around, and it was several minutes before the child in question, having had his clothing described in detail by Neal asked, breathlessly, “Me?”

 

The other children laughed and Neal said, “Yes, lad, What is your name?”

 

“Burk, Sir.”

 

Neal nearly choked on a laugh of his own, but managed to hide it and say, “I can always tell someone who is going to be very successful, Burk. I even knew another such brilliant lad as yourself, but he was by then full-grown, and had the very same name! Now can we prove it to everyone here that you are born to be successful?”

 

“Oh, p-please, Sir!” the child stuttered.

 

“Then you must stand up and come to the front. But come not anywhere near me, nor anyone else on the stage, can you do that, Burk?”

 

The child looked ready to chicken out at this request, but Neal smiled and carried on smiling at him while he backed up the aisle. Burk, his eyes glued to Neal’s, followed and made it to the centre of the stage and Neal, from way off to one side, said, “Now, Burk, turn and face your audience. It is always good to face the audience, lad!”

_Keep your eyes on them! Be ready to duck the tomatoes!_

 

When Burk did so, Neal asked, “Are you ready, children?”

 

“Yes, Sir!”

 

“Are _you_ ready, clever Burk, to prove your abilities?”

 

“Yes, Sir!” he gasped.

 

“Then put your hand into your pocket and take out what you find there!”

 

Burk pulled out a grubby kerchief, a piece of string with two large knots, a pebble, some sort of rusty nail and a very dead and slightly damaged cricket-like insect, and Neal was again very much wanting to laugh with the rest of the children, but at last Burk gasped, “Look!” and then everyone gasped, as he had a gold coin in his fingers.

 

“Tell me if there is a scratch on the coin, Burk.”

 

“There is! It is a cross!”

 

“Show your teacher the coin, Burk.”

 

“That is the mark I made, Sir Neal!” the teacher said, almost as astounded as Burk.

 

Obviously prestidigitation had not found its way to this planet! How very fortunate!

 

“Now, my dear Lady Gark,” Neal said. “How is it that this clever little businessman has done you out of your gold?” and he whisked away the kerchief and, of course, the coin was gone. She held her fingers up in front of her face and wiggled them back and forth as though she thought that they might disappear as well! Neal was having more fun than his audience, this fine morning!

 

Neal flipped the coin so that it spun and spun and prayed a bit – and Burk caught it!

 

“But you can not give him a gold coin, Sir Neal!” the teacher said, astounded.

 

“Oh, but he deserves it! He found it! It will keep him safe and will remind him how successful he is and is going to be. And with that particular gold coin, that can move in time and space, no-one will ever dare challenge him unfairly, because the coin will tell me. But Burk, you must always be fair in your dealings, too, or the coin will leave you, understand?” _Please the teacher and parent by adding a totally unnecessary and boring moral to the tale!_

 

“I understand, Sir! Thank you, Sir!”

 

Neal sent the lad off to his seat, his face hardly wide enough to hold his smile!

 

_I wonder why people say it’s difficult to keep children in line?_

Then, as his finale, Neal took a yellow flower, showed everyone, and asked Lady Sunder to hold it between her cupped hands.

 

“Now remember, Lady Sunder, what happened to Lady Gark! Never release your hands from around that flower but be careful not to crush its delicate petals!”

 

He smiled into her eyes and found it worked just the same at Sunder as anywhere else. She smiled back.

 

He took the kerchief and covered her hands.

 

Then he called up a rather ugly little girl from the front row, having found out her name.

 

“Now, Kilt, stand to the side of Lady Sunder and hold your hand over Lady Sunder’s – do not touch her hands, now!”

 

He paused to let the tension build and glanced round, sad that he didn’t have several accomplices working the crowd, and that they were not at the gathering at Laffaysham! They could have picked every pocket and gone off with everything in the place not nailed to the floor at that moment! He sighed. His Lord probably wouldn’t have let him get away with it! _Fun though, even if I had to give everything back!_

 

Then he said, “Now, Kilt, say, ‘Be lighter than air!’ – loudly, now!”

 

She obediently said it, and he removed her hands and twisted off the kerchief and said politely, “Lady Sunder, will you open your hands and let us see if Kilt is as magic as Burk!”

         Lady Sunder, as goggle-eyed as the children, opened her hands and five quite large yellow butterflies flew into the air (he, Joster and Merritt had spent a merry half-hour chasing around the back field for them, and thankfully they hadn’t died in the meantime!) There was a gasp of delight from the room.

 

He called Kilt over and gave her a little brooch in the shape of a butterfly, which find had inspired the trick in the first place!

         He whispered to her, “Remember what magic feels like!” and sent her back to her seat.

 

“Now I think we must thank Lady Sunder and her ladies-in-waiting for being so good as to help us this morning! I am sure they have very important Keep business to be about, but I will stay for a little while if your teacher permits and answer some questions, if I can ask you some, too!”

 

The nobility gathered their skirts and, smiling at him, left to do other things, chattering amongst themselves.

 

Neal hitched himself up onto a stool and the children asked him what battles he’d been in (he gussied up the warehouse fight a little), how he’d done the tricks (never tell your secrets, he explained) and, when their time was nearly expired, where he came from.

 

“I am from Earth, originally, but I am Heir – second in line – to Steel Keep now,” Neal said, and just picked up a strange reaction in some of the children. “What?” he smiled. “Have you never heard of Earth?”

 

“We have some slaves here from Earth,” the teacher said, nodding.

 

“I was also a slave when I first came here. Earth is very far away and very different to this planet. Much more water, much more metal, lots of different animals. Very pretty, but so are many areas of your planet.” He realised that he didn’t know many areas of this planet, but there must be something prettier than the forbidding, rocky area around Sunder Keep!

 

When he left and Joster and Merritt fell in behind him, he said quietly, “What rumours have you heard, what gossip?”

 

“We are not here to gossip, Master Neal!” Merritt said, indignantly.

 

Neal frowned. “Then I fail to see why I bothered to bring you!”

 

“You _wish_ us to gossip with the soldiers, Master Neal?” Joster asked, humbly, disbelieving.

 

“I wish you to gossip with everyone you can, soldiers and servants alike. Oh goodness, I did not realise I would have to train you to this extent! Say something outrageous and see how people react! Or say you do not like baby-sitting a mere heir when you used to guard the Lord! Say you wish I would disappear back to my home planet.”

 

“But none of that is true, Master Neal!” Merritt exclaimed, horrified.

 

“Well, thank you, but if you tell the truth and are polite and do not gossip, you are of no use to me at all! Other than if we fall in amongst thieves, and I probably have a better chance against them without you if you are all that honest!”

 

“Sorry, Master Neal,” Joster said. “We will do our best, will we not, Merritt?”

 

Merritt nodded, emphatically.

 

Neal checked to see that they were alone in a long area of corridor and they leaned in close to listen. “I do not care if you lie to me, you two, but never tell me a lie that I would ever suspect is a lie, or a lie that might put Lord Steel or anyone at Steel Keep in danger. Or anyone, as a normal rule!

“If I catch you in a lie to me, there will be dire consequences! I expect you to be better than that, and if you are not, practise till you are, or tell me no lies! There are other tricks I must teach you. I should have thought of all this earlier, but no mind, we will have time to catch up on them later! We will have to work around your lack of training till then…but you must at least find a way to gossip and find all the rumours around the deaths, around me, anything that people are talking about!”

 

Joster and Merritt looked at each other as though trying to understand his words, and he thought he should make sure of something else. “This lying thing is only for me. I care not if you lie to me if I can never catch you. But do not ever tell our Lord Steel a lie ever, about anything.”

 

They nodded, still confused. He walked a little way and turned around again to make another course correction. “The only time you can lie to our Lord Steel, and usually only if I tell you to, and even then only if you are sure you will not get caught, is to protect me from humiliation or punishment at his hands, yes?”

 

At this they both smiled broadly. This, they understood! Neal walked on, shaking his head a little.

 

Surely he’d known all these things from the cradle up? He couldn’t remember anyone having to teach him the basics, though many little refinements and sophistications had been added as he grew in competence and worked with experts.

 

It was easier working with the criminal classes, there was so much less to explain! Good thing he was a teacher…now he had to _mentor_ the new intake of criminal classes!

 

Neal found that the Keep had, to his surprise, a librarian, who showed him maps and early documents. The library was small and not well-used and almost completely devoid of fiction of any form!

 

The land on which the Keep stood had been gifted to the first Lord Sunder thirteen generations ago because the man had won the King many battles against the Pretender to the throne, due to the excellence of the swords, arrow-heads and armour, as well as the reliability of the wagons, both utilitarian and war-chariots. The crown on their crest indicated it was a royal bequest and allowed to maintain a standing army and create its own money.

 

“Are Earthlings all so …?” the librarian, Valtin, asked, hesitantly, “…so interested in everything, Neal?”

 

Neal chuckled. “I think I am more curious than the average, but our schooling encourages us to have a variety of interests, Valtin.”

 

Valtin looked ready to cry. “It is not like that here. If they see it not, they believe it not.”

 

_Probably why the magic tricks worked so well!_

 

“Why do you stay? Where are you from originally? Would you not be happier at Laffaysham or Steel?”

 

“I have never visited there, Sir. I was born here. My father and mother gave themselves into slavery when he could no longer support our family as a farmer. The soil close to here is rich, but I am told there was a terrible drought. I am very happy not to have to work at an anvil, or behind the plough for that matter, for I have been blessed with no great physical strength.”

 

“Could you not teach the children?” Neal suggested, and Valtin looked horrified.

 

“Only women are teachers!”

 

Neal rolled his eyes at the ceiling…red-brown rock held by mighty beams, and overlaid with white-wash.

 

 

 

Tallk gave Neal a small, hairy horse and took him to the mines, where the people seemed to work extremely hard at the extremely boring tasks of digging rock from the mines and quarries…they looked at a quarry, he could only think it would be far worse in a mine!...and loading the chunks onto heavy metal carts on rails that were dragged by more of the chunky horses to huge, metal buildings.

 

Then they looked at the foundry, or one of them, and that was interesting, but _incredibly_ hot.

 

“It is very pleasant in the winter,” Tallk remarked.

 

Then Tallk showed him some of the metalsmiths working on swords and some sort of chain-mail that they were developing. It became clear to Neal why everyone here was huge and strong. Almost everyone wore long gauntleted gloves of heavy leather and long aprons of heavy leather to protect them from sparks, heat and hot metal and much less behind, to mitigate the heat!

 

He knew the theory of producing a good sword…he knew why the metal had to be worked and reworked, but in practice, it all seemed very tedious, extremely arduous and **_hot!_**

 

_If I had to make my own swords and daggers, I’d develop a taste for guns! I’m one of the blessed ones…I could always steal a good sword - and have!_

Tallk was proudly telling Neal all the intricacies of different metal work. Not lacking in intellect, Tallk took him off into another building. Sunder also did work in other metals, and some of the lighter-built men were in separate booths making silver and gold chains and beautiful jewellery. Neal was amazed and astonished – he hadn’t seen anyone here wearing anything other than solid rings – one that seemed ubiquitous, probably a Sunderite symbol, the other perhaps a wedding band. He was effusive in his praise.

 

“I know how much work and skill goes into making a sword, Tallk, I do – but these pieces are gorgeous! But your people do not wear these?”

 

Tallk seemed a little amused at Neal picking through the delicate and beautiful brooches, pendants and complex women’s hair-ornaments.

         “There are many journeymen and good apprentices making the Sunder rings. The freemen here wear one like this,” he showed Neal his, “though mine has the half-knot and my father’s the full…and the slaves wear a more simple one. Collars just are not comfortable when we work so very hard in the heat.

“But you should see my people when they are showing off, Neal! On high days and holidays I swear the ladies, especially, wear more metal than our fully-armoured warriors!”

 

Neal laughed. Tallk smiled at him and said, “Do you have a …woman, Neal?”

 

Neal’s heart fell. All he could see was Aramalitha’s pretty smile and he felt suddenly sick. He had managed to forget for – oh – two minutes? Tallk didn’t notice, but went on, looking over the ornaments, “Just before the special occasions, this whole place is full of men – and boys – looking for a special something to make their fancy look at them with favour. Why do you not choose something to take back with you?”

 

Neal collected himself and smiled back, realising that this was something he couldn’t refuse. He spent a long while picking up this ring and that hair-piece, not wishing to insult any of the craftsmen, and certainly not wanting to make Tallk feel he was taking this gift lightly. Eventually he chose a white-gold and platinum hairpiece that would have looked stunning in Litha’s hair. It was one of the lighter pieces, three small, intricate dragonflies on clips, sparkling with facetted platinum and linked with pretty and delicate cut chains to fit over her… _anyone’s!_ …hair.

 

“You do have the artist’s eye, my friend,” Tallk told him. “Edon won the Jewellery Award spring before last.”

 

Neal said everything he could to ensure that Edon and Tallk and every other craftsman knew how much he thought of their work and went back with Tallk. If he had gone before seeing the gold-and-silversmiths, he would have never seen the brighter side of Sunder Keep!

 

 

 

 

End of Chapter 6

 

Come on, you guys, I know there are more people reading this than my faithful two...gimme some comments here!

 


	7. Yet a Little Humour to be Had

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal makes friends and takes on a challenge at Sunder

 

 

 

 

 

Neal approached Lord Sunder in his study after dinner that night. Tallk was there, and Neal nodded and smiled at him. Tallk was about to leave, but Neal said, “I crave an informal audience with Lord Sunder, Tallk, but I am very happy for you to stay. After all, in the unlikely event that my Lord does not produce heirs of his own body, you and I might be engaged in trade talks or political wrangling one day!”

 

_Heaven help me!_

“Heaven forefend!” Tallk groaned, unconsciously echoing him. “It is the worst thing about being part of the nobility…talking abstract rubbish with empty-headed idiots!”

 

“You would have a lot in common with my brother on that score, and I certainly would argue not with either of you!” Neal grinned at him.

 

“Such a waste of time!” agreed Lord Sunder. “Take the other chair, Neal – you are young enough to be my grandson or great-grandson! - I stand on no ceremony with you!”

 

“Good, thank you, Sir!” Neal said, and sat. “It is a puzzle…there are people, men and women, who seem to enjoy the deception and lies and general silliness of politics. I think some people want to make a difference and think they will, but somehow their good will becomes tainted and they are sucked into the morass of corruption.

“Many others, like ourselves, hate the whole mess…yet none of us know how to get rid of it…on my planet, believe it or …” Neal was about to say that it was better after the alien invasion, but he realised that they would draw the obvious conclusion that somehow he could move back and forth at will. So he shifted his chair to cover the pause and said, “…it seems worse by far than here. Most people, especially amongst the young, do not even bother to vote, which is the way we choose leaders, as it matters not who rules, the same corruption abounds.”

 

“We have a problem with this weed here, they call it scratch-weed, for the whole thing is covered with strong thorny prickles,” Tallk said. “Nothing seems to eat it, it is hard to pull without thick and awkward gloves, it throws seeds and has a deep tap-root as well from which it leaps every spring if it is not dug up down this far,” he indicated about three feet. “It is of no use whatsoever!”

         “We have a bounty on that weed, yet even the very poor dislike trying to make money that way! I think if we could find a way of getting rid of politics, and scratch-weed, our planet would be a much happier place!”

 

Neal and Lord Sunder laughed.

 

“Now, Neal, what would you discuss?” Lord Sunder asked.

 

“I realise you provide us at Steel with weapons and cargo wagons and many useful goods, mostly in metal. We provide you with many foods not easily spoiled by travel, am I properly informed?”

 

"Also animals for slaughter, but usually carcases. We keep those in an ice-house through the summer, as well as many other foods, in varying stages of cold. I must show you one, Neal," Talk told him. "Thick soil walls, over bales of straw over a large shed, mostly underground, gravel floor, and all the walls lined with large blocks of ice. We sometimes have to import those, too, if our winter is dry, but in the cold weather our friends can haul heavy goods by sleigh, which is quicker and easier than by wheel!"

 

Lord Sunder nodded. “It is an odd partnership, as our trade is with items that are not needed often, if they are well looked after. But we do get an ongoing supply of foodstuffs of far lesser value…we run a complicated tab between our Keeps. I did not get on very well with your Lord’s father, but he, like all the other Steel’s, were meticulously honest…except for your Lord.”

 

“Sir?” Neal exclaimed, shocked, sitting forward, then he realised that Lord Sunder’s eyes were twinkling.

 

“Caerrovon Steel is very clever, Neal, he always makes sure the balance weighs a little in our favour, that we always get a slightly better deal than we should. Nothing too obvious. Now whether we do not notice and merely feel that we do well from dealing with Steel Keep, or if we notice and feel a mite obliged, it is good for our relationship.

         “You may tell him he need not do that any more. I am not going to break relations with someone as smart as Caerrovon Steel!”

 

         Neal grinned back at the canny older man. “I shall do so, Lord Sunder.”

 

“We live in an area of unreliable rainfall, here,” Lord Sunder went on. “Usually we manage, but there was a time a few springs back – and it has happened before your Caerrovon took over as well – that Steel Keep, with her strong water reserves have brought us water by the wagon-load, wagon after wagon, keeping us and our live-stock in water and some of the vegetable gardens alive… Until we finally had decent rainfall.

         “Steel Keep is not the closest Armed Keep, yet the Steels always go out of their way to help. Ah, knew that not, hey?”

 

“I love my Lord, Lord Sunder, because he is a generous and kind man. I did not know about your water, but it is not a surprise.”

 

“They have never charged us for the water or the labour to bring it, and would not allow their slaves to ask for gifts in return. So we give them a better price on our best swords than the other Keeps. Just a little. It is a game!”

 

Neal smiled broadly. “That is how it should be…everyone trying to help each other, making it a game to be of service without being obvious about it!”

 

“Betchem helps, too, but Steel is always first.”

 

“You cannot dig deep wells?”

 

“We have many wells, but when there is a drought, the water belowground falls swiftly to levels too low to draw,” Tallk joined in.

 

Neal frowned. “But – from the road and when we went to see the quarry, Tallk – there are those very big trees. How do they survive?”

 

Tallk shrugged. “They seem to use very little water, Neal, or be able to use it very carefully.”

 

Neal nodded, wondering. Then he turned to Lord Sunder. “Is there any way that Steel and Sunder can be of more mutual benefit to each other?”

 

“Our Armed Keeps…the Close Five as I think you call them…have worked out our mutual dependence over the generations, Neal.”

 

“I understand, but sometimes things change, products, crops, even climates can change. It is always good to revisit things set up long ago, in case they can be improved?”

 

“Such as working against this – disease or whatever it is that is killing young people here and there?”

 

“Exactly, Tallk. I have been around your Keep – where were they found, these youngsters?”

 

Lord Sunder motioned and Tallk went to a dark old deep chest and drew out some plans of the Keep. He showed Neal where the two had been found…one in one of the longer corridors, one in the bell-tower itself.

 

“She was taking the dark-of-night watch. Yes, yes, there are no Keep wars, now, but we remember the old days. We are a fighting people, Neal! Our younglings all know how to fight and use various weapons. Can you keep a secret?”

 

“You have no idea how well, Lord Sunder! My word on it.”

 

“You are chosen by Caerrovon Steel…good enough for me. He keeps more secrets than anyone else I know. You may be privy to some of them!

“Well, Neal, we even teach them how to shoot arrows from a bow. Yes, yes, they were outlawed generations ago. But it means not that a fighting Keep forgets how we won the wars that allowed good laws to be made, forgets the skills of the past.”

 

Neal thought about that.

 

“I know your father has some of these skills,” Lord Sunder said, waving his hand near his temple.

 

“Empathy, Lord Sunder? Yes, some.”

 

“But if you can keep this from him, do. I should not have told you, laid that secret on you.”

 

“I will not tell my Lord unless this knowledge is of vital import, Lord Sunder. And I shall keep it from everyone else. And after all, word of one small, young ex-slave against the Lord of the most valuable Keep..?”

 

“Honey on your tongue, Neal? But yes, our metal makes us important to the others!

"And I shall keep in better touch…oh, I know, I know, the other Keeps think us a grouchy, dense, unsociable bunch, the Sunders, and to be honest, we like it that they think that! They come not and bother us! Oh, not you, Neal – one man learning and not judging! But we find some of the social ...um… nonsense…a waste of time. We have our own festivals, but all this…” He held an imaginary thin-stemmed wine-glass and sipped, his nose in the air, and Neal laughed.

 

“If it is acceptable to yourself, Lord Sunder, I would like to keep in touch now and then by letter. If anything occurs to you – about the deaths, or our inter-Keep trade, you could mention it to me?”

 

“I am not a good writer, Neal. I can read and write, of course, but my hands have been scarred by the work…oh, yes, it is of no use letting others do all the work. The secrets of the work must be in my head and hands and those of my heirs!”

 

“On our planet, Lord Sunder, it was often the wives that wrote back and forth, they were more assiduous than the men, in general. Perhaps your wife or a daughter could be your scribe?”

 

“Shelt can do it, Father,” Tallk said. “She has a very pretty hand, has always been good at keeping secrets, from when we were children!”

 

“Then we shall do it, Neal of Steel! And thank you for coming to visit us.”

 

 

Neal found Sunder, other than the children and the jewellery-makers generally uninteresting and unvarying, though he liked the down-to…Earth?... people! But there was yet a little humour to be had! The last evening, Jebb seemed to be more drunk – or even more lacking in courtesy – than usual. Though Tallk and Lord and Lady Sunder tried to shush him, he was having none of it! Ever since Neal had charmed Lady Sunder with his magic, she and her ladies had talked of little else. It was rather pathetic and sad, Neal thought! Jebb seemed to take it as a personal affront, one he had to avenge on behalf of every male within the Keep!

 

Neal usually could avoid Jebb, who worked very hard along with every other male and many females in the Keep, but at mealtimes there was no escaping him. Eventually, Lord Sunder said to his son, “If I were this Heir to Steel Keep, Jebb, I would call you out for your continued rudeness!”

 

“He would not dare, my father! Look at him, puny thing!”

 

Lord Sunder glanced at Neal apologetically. “I shall deal with him, Neal. He is drunk, but that is no excuse!”

 

“I am not afraid of your son Jebb, Lord Sunder,” Neal sounded gently amused. “After all, though my species is small in stature, the law makes provision for such inequalities. It seems that your son is unaware that my Champion is Joster of Steel, last co-winner of the all-in Warrior Award, along with my father.”

 

Neal never could understand how such a remark, uttered in a soft voice at one end of a rowdy table could cause the whole room to fall silent, but so it was.

 

“Jebb, you have been at fault, and if this young Heir of Steel calls you out, you must take the challenge.”

 

“I will, Father!” Jebb said, a little taken-aback.

 

“No, no, Jebb, I know you mean no harm, but find my apparent youth and small size amusing in some way. But I would not fight you, nor have Joster teach you a lesson.

“Here, I have seen your fine Keep – do you have a long stair-case? - how many men can stand on the tallest stairs in the Keep to fight off enemies?”

 

Jebb thought a bit. “The stairs of the bell-towers! They are six storeys tall, all in all! Each stair-set can hold...five sword-wielding men, easily!”

 

Neal looked deliberately startled. Then he went on, “You think I could not take them all?”

 

Jebb laughed.

 

Neal stood and said, “A wager, then. Lady Sunder, I beg your scarf as a token.”

 

Calling the ugly brown thing a scarf was an insult to scarves anywhere, but she gladly handed it over. Neal took it, leaned over and handed it to Jebb. “I will place it in trust to you, Jebb of Sunder. Tie it to the bells, and I will go up and bring it safe to Lady Sunder again by morning. But only your soldiers will be there. No-one else. Except for the time I will be there, of course.”

 

“Done! But the wager?”

 

“Oh, I will fight you myself if I do not produce it, but if I do, I will set the alternative.”

 

“That seems unfair, Neal!” Lord Sunder said, a little horrified at what was happening. How would he explain to Steel that his younger son, a perfectly nice, polite, smart young man, though definitely frail, small and scrawny, had been killed in a challenge-duel? By _his_ son, twice or more his size!

 

“Then I will take Jebb’s word that he will no more insult those who have done him and his family no wrong, and will mind his manners generally in the future. I mean you no insult, Lord Sunder.”

 

“None taken, Neal! He has not acted as though we have taught him any manners at all! But I think I should forbid this wager, boys.”

 

“No, let him try and take our best twenty-men on the tower steps and bring my mother’s scarf to her again! I will see this man’s fighting skills!” Jebb taunted.

 

“Well, according to our deal, you will not,” Neal told him. “But I am sure your men will be able to give accurate descriptions – at least some of them will!”

 

Tallk shook his head at Neal, but Neal smiled inanely round the table, and went back to eating. Jebb got up and left to prepare the warriors. Tallk said, “From a babe up he hates to lose, Neal. This is unwise, my new friend.”

 

“I am not afraid of your warriors or your brother, Tallk. Do not put yourself about, all will be well.”

 

“You do not know Jebb!”

 

“I have known his type, Tallk.” _Ruiz was one!_

 

Joster and Merritt were stunned and angry with Neal, and did not hesitate to tell him so! He had often encouraged them to speak freely, and they both took this opportunity to the extent and the volume that eventually he told them to **_shut up!_**

 

This was the first time they’d ever heard him raise his voice, and it cowed them, which was good, as he wanted their help! He asked them to sneak around and watch Jebb and Jebb’s friends without being seen!

 

They hurried off. Neal was not very confident in their stealth abilities, but it perhaps would give him some useful information a little practice and if not, at least got them out of his hair and let him think! Not that he needed to plan much, he’d dangled a line over the tower and Jebb had obediently taken the bait.

 

Neal didn’t bother to wonder what he would do if his plans went awry. Make a plan, stick to the plan…in this, he was like Jason Statham (who was a hero of Neal’s of old, since he is reputed to have started as a London street con artist!) But he always added…’ _as far as possible_ ‘ because in the real world plans seldom went smoothly, and sometimes better opportunities presented themselves. He was always good at thinking on his feet and changing the plan to his advantage, however screwed-up things became!

 

So he stayed in his room and waited and eventually Joster came and told him that neither Merritt nor he had seen Jebb pass the scarf to anyone before he went to the tower. Neal thanked him, left him watching, and went to the tower where Jebb was talking to his warriors.

 

“Just show me up the tower, Jebb, where the scarf will be?” he asked politely, and Jebb, seeming rather surprised, took him up all the steps to the top of the tower.

“What a magnificent vantage point in times of war or trouble, hey, Jebb?” Neal said, leaning out and looking around.

 

“Sunder has never been taken!” Jebb bragged, and Neal nodded.

 

“With all your good well-made weapons, your solid structure, I am not surprised!”

 

Jebb showed him the scarf and tied it to the bell-rope.

 

“I just wanted to make sure I could reach it when I get up here!” Neal said, apparently judging the distance from the ground and from the edge of the top step.

 

“If you get here!” Jebb pointed out.

 

“True…never does to be too confident against well-trained, well-armed soldiers!” Neal said, taking a very good look at each of them as they walked down the many stairs. Any one of them would have weighed twice as much as he did, most thrice as much! They were all smiling to see their opponent, so he was amusing the troops if nothing else! With this rather stolid family, they probably needed any fun they could get!

 

At the bottom, he shook Jebb’s hand (only afterwards wondering if that meant anything to Jebb) and wished him luck!

 

_He’ll need it!_

When the moons had left the sky, Neal, dressed in his black Earth cat-burglar clothes, as Mozzie liked to call them, and sent Joster and Merritt to find Jebb. He was sleeping, snoring, they told Neal, and no-one was watching the tower other than the twenty wide-awake, very large, alert soldiers on the stairs there!

 

Neal went to the window, told Joster and Merritt to be quiet, and climbed out. They watched with mouths a-gape! He put his finger to his lips – again hoping that meant _shh!_ to them, and disappeared from their view. This stonework was easier to climb than Steel’s, though the bell tower here rose higher in relation to any other building. Neal was pleased that he’d stayed in shape!

         It didn’t take him very long to reach the bell-tower, though he was being very quiet and careful. He silently threw a leg over the wide wall, checking to make sure the soldier wasn’t watching. Then he looked up – and the scarf wasn’t there.

 

_Tallk was right…do anything to win. Trouble is, Jebb’s bigger and brawnier and nastier, but I am so **very** much more stubborn when it comes to winning!_

He reversed the way he’d come and made his way to Jebb’s window. There he was, all right, snoring like a chain-saw with an intermittent fault. Neal climbed in the open window – it was three storeys up and the night was warm. He had been sure he would have access. He carefully went through everything in the room. Jebb just didn’t seem to have that much creativity, and many people at the table hadn’t liked his manner towards Neal, so he probably wouldn’t trust anyone with his secret that he was going to cheat.

 

Then he saw it…or a bit of it. Jebb was sleeping on it! Neal tried carefully pulling the fragment he could reach, but it wasn’t budging. It might stretch into a belt, but it wasn’t moving! All those bulging muscles from the crown of his head down were _heavy!_

Sighing, Neal made sure of his exit. Then he went to the door, unlocked it (Jebb thought he might come here to find it? Perhaps not such a dolt!) and went out. He picked up two candle-holders that were standing on the table just outside the door and ran fleet-footed to his rooms and told Joster in whispers what he wanted him to do.

 

“He _cheated,_ Master Neal?” Merritt exclaimed quietly but angrily.

 

“It is all one, Merritt, I am cheating too! It is a _game!_ Come, Joster!”

 

“It is a game with your life at stake,” grumbled Joster.

 

“You know that our Lord Steel cannot easily be killed?”

 

“Yes, but - ”

 

“Neither can I.”

_Of course, I don’t want to win by crisping half of Sunder Keep! And I have never had the opportunity to see if the fire-angel-symbiote works in me, but at least Joster looks happier and that’s something!_

Neal opened Jebb’s door quietly and slipped in. He had everything he needed in place. At the right time, Joster dropped the two candlesticks with a mighty clatter!

 

_Now let’s hope he wakes up! When Peter used to snore, nothing woke him except a call that I was outside of my radius!_

But Jebb did wake. He didn’t leap up, but he stumbled to the door and opened it. Neal lifted the scarf, took Jebb’s underwear, and exited quietly, window right.

 

He waited a moment, clinging to the wall like a gecko, but there was no outcry, no running feet. He climbed along and went in the next window down and along, a passage window he’d shown his man.

 

Joster came up and shook his head. “He noticed not that the scarf was missing?”

“Obviously not! I am glad. I would have to have waited till he ran all the way up the bell tower and checked, talked to the soldiers, came back and got into bed…now I can just go immediately.”

 

“But you have the scarf! Why - ?”

 

“There is a kind of protocol to these things, Joster. But you can go to bed.”

 

“No. Merritt and I will have all thing ready in case we need to leave in a hurry!”

 

“Oh, ye of little faith!” Neal told him and climbed out of the window again, the scarf tied round his middle and holding the underwear.

 

Neal was heartily regretting his need for the final gesture…a single – or double! - finger salute!…by the time he’d climbed the tower again! He was in shape, but not _great_ shape and his fingers and toes, forearms and calves were telling him so, loudly!

 

_I could have just jumped, having left my own token here the first time…but it is a risk if someone sees…and that’s just lazy! Serves me right for doing less physical stuff and just painting! I wonder if I could jump mid-fall…interesting thought! Hope I don’t need to try it! Rather try it back home, over a few mattresses!!_

 

The soldier on the top step, all attention on the stairs leading down, did not notice as his dark silhouette climbed past the opening and over the bells, tying Jebb’s underwear to the top of the bell-ropes, careful not to touch the great bells and waken them from their long slumber!

 

 **_That_ ** _would be a happening!_

 

Then he climbed all the way down, his muscles trembling with fatigue, and went to the stables. He slipped past the stable guards and hid in the hay-loft and slept the rest of the night peacefully curled up in a blanket. He knew this was probably over-kill, but he didn’t want Jebb to be able to find him!

 

_And spoil the surprise!_

 

He was woken by the noise of the horses and rose swiftly and dressed in his good clothes, his sword by his side and went out into the dawn light and along the passageways to the Greatroom, where Joster and Merritt, still looking apprehensive and wearing their swords, joined him.

 

Lord and Lady Sunder came into the room. Neal went to her and bowed low and handed her the (slightly crumpled) scarf.

 

The flood of relief on their faces showed that Lord and Lady Sunder had judged his fighting skills and strength accurately!

 

“But how - ?” Lady Sunder asked.

 

“A great artist of any sort: magician, painter, warrior – they never reveal their skills and secrets, Lady Sunder!”

 

At that moment Tallk and Jebb entered with many other younger folk.

 

“He has done the impossible!” Lady Sunder exclaimed, “He’s brought me my scarf!”

 

Jebb’s expression was hard to read. “He never went up to the bell tower!” he hissed, really angry. “It is a trick!”

 

“Now, Jebb, that is _enough_ , son!”

 

Neal stepped forward. “Jebb is perfectly correct, Lord and Lady Sunder. It might be a trick! I might have found a similar scarf and pretended it was yours, Lady Sunder. The original may be hanging from the bells at the top of the tower even now.”

 

Jebb was non-plussed by this. He stared at Neal. Neal said, “I would like my breakfast, that was tiring work last night, but I can come with you and look, Jebb, what say you?”

 

“You go and eat, Neal,” Tallk said. “Jebb and I will check that no scarf hangs in the bell tower, and since the soldiers are still there they can vouch for the fact that you were not there last night, is that not so, brother?”

 

Tallk and Jebb went out and the rest went to breakfast. It wasn’t very long afterwards that Tallk came in, scowling blackly, holding the underwear in a large fist and followed by a much deflated Jebb.

 

“Tallk!” Lady Sunder exclaimed in horror. “My son! What is that thing you are bringing to my breakfast table!”

 

“I do not know all that happened, but I know that my brother did not leave the scarf at the top of the bell tower, but left his underwear there instead, to trick Neal. He has admitted to me that he did not leave the scarf there!”

 

“That is dishonourable, son,” Lord Sunder said. “We will talk of this later.”

 

“And if you do not, Father, I will!” Tallk said. “The way he spoke to our guest, and then he cheats!”

 

Neal didn’t think Jebb could look more crestfallen but at this threat he managed to. He looked as cowed as it is possible for three hundred and fifty pounds of pure solid muscle to look!

 

“No, no – Jebb tried to win and I _did_ win! We are quits, are we not, Jebb?” Neal asked, slicing a sausage in pieces.

 

Jebb was not all that interested in Neal, he only had eyes for his furious older brother and his father at this point, and was judging the distance to the door, but Neal repeated it and he glanced over.

 

“Come on, Jebb, admit that I, the small, puny, useless Earthling ex-slave out-did you and admit you under-estimated me and were rude to me for no good reason and I will speak for you. It looks as though the forces gathering against you, Jebb, are more dangerous than those I vanquished last night! Have some sense!”

 

Jebb finally focussed on him and nodded. “You won. I do not know how, it was a trick, but you have the scarf. I apologise. I was rude and I will try not to be in future.”

 

“It was easy!” Neal told him. “I climbed the bell tower and you had carefully - ”

 

“But the soldiers!” Tallk interrupted.

 

“I did not fight the soldiers, Tallk! I climbed up the _outside_ of the tower, saw there was no scarf, found the scarf, went up the tower again – on the outside – and tied Jebb’s…er…clothing to the bells. Then I climbed down again.”

 

There was a silence for a moment. Someone said, “That is fifteen man-heights from the ground! Straight up in most places!” Many men laughed.

 

Tallk shrugged, “You do not need to tell us how you did it, Neal, you bested my big-mouthed, pushy little brother and for that I am grateful! You could have turned into a bird and flown for all I care! Or like the butterflies my mother keeps telling us about!”

 

Neal waved a knife at him and carried on eating.

 

 

The Steel envoy left with many shoulder-thumps on either side. Lord and Lady Sunder as well as all the children came to see them off. Merritt was still counting things they’d brought, hoping he hadn’t left anything behind! He’d gone to the stable while the others were at breakfast and rescued the things Neal had left there. He was beginning to think that this post was not the sinecure he had thought it would be!

 

Neal thanked Lord and Lady Sunder and thanked them also for taking their eldest son from his work, as he had done an excellent job showing him around and thanked them all for the lovely gift of jewellery.

 

Then he mounted up and the three Steel Keepers waved and turned and trotted off…before circling round to the edge of the thick trees. They found an opening big enough to take and hide the wagon, made their way into the cool shade, found a small clearing and dismounted.

 

“What are we doing now, Master Neal?”

 

“We will take turns at watch. Me last! You may make the horses comfortable, you may check all the lists you have! You will make notes on all the gossip and rumour you have heard and all you have learnt. I am going to catch up on some sleep!” And with that he lay down on his horse-blanket with his saddle as a pillow and slept for three hours!

 

 

 

 

End of Chapter 7

 

Loved the recent comments...keep them coming, those who can! Enjoy getting them!


	8. Very Uniform and Reliable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal reaches Camber Keep and finds it ...different.

 

 

 

 

 

Neal wondered if this four-Keep trip was worth the effort…for by the time they reached Camber Keep, he wished he was back home…again…especially as the primary reason for this expedition was to keep his mind off Litha, and it wasn’t working! Her ghost rode beside him, present as Kate’s had never been. He sighed as the three of them cleaned up and approached Camber just after mid-day.

 

The frontage of this Castle-Keep was up against many other large walled houses and small castles and they had to travel through an extensive and apparently prosperous town or even city, rather like Steel, but the city was much bigger. There was bustling traffic and crowds of people.

 

_Less noise than Earth…little machinery. Interesting. Earth is quieter now. Never would have expected so many benefits from an alien war!_

 

They rode up to the front gate of the Keep. There appeared to be no-one guarding it. It presented a flat front of wood and iron, painted in light cream. The Camber crest, a scythe reaping a fat sheaf of grain surmounted by a crown, all gold on cream outlined in black, was prominently displayed on each side of the gates.

 

It didn’t look like a Keep at war, as Sunder did, just unfriendly and aloof.

 

Neal stood on his knees in the saddle and called, and Joster did the same – with a two-feet advantage, which wasn’t helping Neal feel ever so grown-up! – and then Merritt and Joster yelled together and nearly deafened Neal completely.

 

“Sorry, Master Neal! We come from a big family and sometimes have to yell loudly just to make ourselves heard!”

 

“Lucky I can lip-read a little, since hear you at all I now cannot, Joster!”

 

Joster grinned, and the large gate groaned open and a pair of mild and rather chubby soldiers smiled at them. Both were bald.

 

“The place is guarded by the Friars Tuck!” Neal said to himself and introduced himself. “Or Schultz and Schultz…who heard almost _noth-thing!”_

 

The one led them along and into the cool of the castle while the other wrestled the gate closed.

 

They passed another group of soldiers and Neal requested that his man be shown where to stable the horses, and where to put the wagon that was outside. They smiled pleasantly at him and his original guide led him and Joster into the main hallway.

 

As it happened, Lord and Lady Camber and a whole group of people were passing through the spacious hallway as they reached it. They turned, seeming startled out of all proportion to the sight of two men come to visit, especially when no provision was made for some sort of warning from gate guards.

 

Neal blinked. He had an awful feeling that his vision had been damaged along with his hearing…everything seemed beige.

 

_As beige as every renter’s nightmare! If it isn’t a saying, it should be! Must check with Mozzie!_

If there was one colour Neal abhorred, it was beige. Worse than orange! Here the walls, floors and furniture were every shade of beige down to a cream. The clothing of the people was the same, though the women sported small pieces of pastel colours – an embroidered flower here, a narrow yoke there. But the overall impression was that everyone and everything was designed to be camouflaged in a large bowl of plain porridge.

Now Neal, wearing deep rose, and Joster, wearing Steel’s colours of deep, bright blue and sharp grey, looked like gemstones in the bowl, and totally out-of-place!

 

Neal cleared his throat and stepped forward, bowing and handing the Lord his Lord’s letter.

         “I know not if you remember, Lord and Lady Camber, I am Neal Caffrey Ellington-Steel, second heir to Steel Keep and I thought to visit and find out a little of our comrades’ Keeps. I have come from Sunder Keep. I crave your hospitality for a short time.”

 

Lady Camber seemed to put her nose up as though anything more colourful than gruel was low-class! Lord Camber took the letter and waved it vaguely.

         “Of course, of course! Neal of Steel…I remember. He looked around absent-mindedly and one of his daughters came forward and said,

         “I will look after him, Father.”

        

“Thank you, Shereen. Master Neal, this is my daughter, Lady Shereen. Take him to the west suite, Shereen. I shall see you once you are settled, Neal.”

 

“Thank you, Lord and Lady Camber.

“I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Lady Shereen. I hope I will not be too much bother,” Neal said, bowing over her hand.

 

“No, you are not any bother,” Shereen said, and led the way down a corridor so uniformly beige and the light so soft and homogeneous that Neal felt unbalanced, as he had once experienced in a white-out, where it was hard to locate the horizon. There wasn’t a sharp corner, all were curved rather like some adobe dwellings, which added to the effect.

 

“You have visited Sunder Keep?” Shereen asked, with no hint of interest.

 

“Yes, I spent a few days there and learnt a great deal. Have you spent much time there?”

 

“No.”

 

“Oh!” Neal blinked.

 

“I apologise, Neal of Steel, I am the last person who should be aiding you. I have no social skills.”

 

“That is wonderful!” Neal grinned, and she turned in surprise. “People who say they have social skills are very often extremely good at pretty lies to cover the truth or, indeed, anything interesting! I assure you, I am something of an expert!”

 

She managed a small smile. “Please tell Father that you are pleased with me, but not the reason, kind Sir.”

 

“Oh, I can tell helpful lies better than most, Shereen! Now, my lady, tell me…Camber is the grain basket of the planet, am I correct?”

 

“Camber is the biggest Keep in terms of arable land on the whole planet. Camber produces over sixty-five percent of all the grain grown every autumn and have for more than ten generations, barring times of war. We have an excellent climate, superior farmers, and technologically advanced drying and storage facilities. We also produce a great deal of meat and send hides to Sunder for processing into hard leathers, but we tan the best soft leather ourselves.

         “We also produce dairy products and soft cheeses and some semi-soft cheeses. Our goods are known everywhere as the best in quality, very uniform and reliable.”

 

Neal exclaimed. “Do they make all of you recite that every morning, or is that just for the school-children?”

 

She turned and laughed, and her whole face changed. She was smooth as cream and nicely-rounded herself, with deep dimples in her cheeks when she laughed. Neal smiled back at her.

         “My father is very proud of our Keep, Sir Neal!”

 

“I am teasing, there is no reason you should not be proud of such accomplishments! You did sound a little as though you were in charge of the Camber Trade Delegation at an off-world convention, that is all.”

 

“I have no conversation, Sir Neal.”

 

“On the contrary, you are proving to be a delightful companion!”

 

“You are the first person to say such a thing!”

 

“Perhaps most young men are merely shy in the presence of the daughter of such a powerful and influential Lord!”

 

She looked at him as a man might and said, “You spoke truly: you lie well!”

 

“Thank you, Lady Shereen!” Neal was delighted with the epigram of which she seemed completely unaware! “Unlike yourself, there are many people who do not appreciate my particular talents! But that was no lie.”

 

She laughed again, and they reached his rooms. She showed him in. Everything was soft and curved – and beige! But it was far more comfortable and commodious than the rooms at Sunder!

         Three young slave-girls came in bearing a tray of snacks and tea, towels and a large bowl of fruit. Neal wondered that they hadn’t set their agronomists to breeding beige fruit, these seemed violently bright in their cream bowl in the beige room!

 

“Lady Shereen, may I ask your slaves to show me their collars? I was a slave till very recently, and am developing an interest in them as a social indicator.”

 

The tallest slave came over and said, softly, “Good day – you are Neal of Steel?”

 

“I am. And your name?”

 

She said in English, “I am Susan. I was also taken from Earth.” Her accent was pleasant, Sussex or Devon?

 

Neal shifted to English: “Susan! From where? And why did you not return?”

 

“I was in London – well, north of London, Milton Keynes? – when the Slave-ship came.” Neal nodded. “I stayed here because the war was terrible where we were living, and my family had been killed before I was taken and I didn’t want to go back and see the place without them. The Cambers have been very kind to me.”

 

“It was the same for me. There were problems back on Earth and I stayed because my Lord was …very special: kind, loving, generous.”

 

“He made you his heir?” Shereen asked, curious.

 

Neal nodded and, knowing their ear-bugs were giving them the Sheel equivalent, continued in English, “After some time he made me and my best friend his heirs. He is very young and has no wife as yet. It is merely a precaution, as he will almost certainly out-live us in the normal way of things, and likely have children in the near future.”

 

“I would love to talk to you a little, Neal, if you have some time during your stay,” Susan said, and Neal nodded. “I miss hearing English a great deal.”

 

“May I see your collar?”

 

Susan swept her hair, loosely plaited in a long, blonde braid to one side, and Neal fingered the collar which was made of butter-soft kid-leather with simple cut-outs showing pastel pink and blue flowers beneath.

 

“That must be very comfortable,” Neal remarked.

 

“We like everyone to be comfortable,” Shereen stated.

She left Neal to get settled and Joster hurried off to make sure Merritt was doing well with the wagon and horses and bring their bags and lead him back to their suite.

 

 

 

After about an hour, there was a knock on the door and Joster went to answer it. Shereen and a middle-aged slave came in when invited, and she said,

         “This is Dom. He is also from Earth.”

 

“Hallo, Dom!” Neal said, going over and shaking his hand, which surprised both him and Shereen.

 

Dom grinned a little and said, in English, “I’d forgotten that! The gentry don’t shake the hands of slaves, and we don’t shake each other’s hands! How odd! And my full name is Dominic Shuster.”

 

Shereen said, “I thought you might like to have Dom show you around, Sir Neal, since you are…well, you both come from one planet. My parents would like you to join them this afternoon, at the second meal and Dom can be your guide all the time you are here.”

 

“That is very thoughtful, Lady Shereen,” Neal said. “Lady, while we are away from all the formality, would it suit you to call me Neal, and I call you Shereen?”

 

“Oh, no, Sir Neal. My mother was speaking about the…ease of manners at Steel,” Neal wondered what exactly Lady Camber had called it! “but here we follow traditions very closely. I was never as good at it as my sibs, so do not tempt me into your ways, which will get me into trouble with my parents.”

 

“I see. Yes, of course! And though I would love to have Dom show me around, if you are free to join us, I would like that, too.”

 

“I will try, Sir Neal, but may be kept very busy.”

 

She curtseyed and left, and Neal had the strong impression that she had been told to give him a wide berth…but why? He had never done anything to the Cambers!

 

He turned to Dom, eye-brows raised. Dom shrugged. “Don’t look at me, Neal! I don’t get it!”

 

“So, Massachusetts?”

 

“Yes. Born in Adelaide, Australia, but my family moved when I was three, Dad got a job in Boston and I grew up there, moved to LA when I was seventeen.”

 

“Oh, Dom, this is Joster and this is Merritt, here to guard me from all evils on the road!” Neal said in Sheel, and he shook hands with them, too. Luckily, they were young and not unduly surprised by this. They nodded to him and then went back to fixing some tack that had become a little worn. Neal said, “Los Angeles was one of the worst hit by the wars, but only at some later time, I believe… I was in New York.”

 

“My girl…” his voice hitched, “…and I were out buying supplies. Just in case. We hadn’t had the attacks you guys had, we didn’t think, I don’t know – but the Slavers actually arrived first. Not the invading force.”

 

“You were separated?” Neal voice dropped with sympathy.

 

Dom looked down then back and went on, “Sam was a detective. She did what she knew to do. But though she wounded a few of them, there were so many…anyway, I was herded into the ship, along with hundreds of others, perhaps thousands! Well – you know what it was like!”

 

“Yes, Dom, I do. I am sorry.”

 

“It’s been a while, now. In a way, she was one of the lucky ones!”

 

“You didn’t want to go back, see if she perhaps survived?”

 

“Nah…when I heard that your Lord was finding Earthlings and sending them home, well, I was already pretty settled here. On Earth, I didn’t know what I wanted to do. Here, I am a slave, but they are nice people. Bit – um – bit - ”

 

Neal waited. Dom eventually took a breath and said, “You are an inconvenience, Neal. A surprise.”

 

Neal raised his eyebrows, wanting Dominic to go on, which he did. “They’re nice folk. Really…but they’re like the things they do.”               

Seeing Neal’s puzzlement, he tried, “Bread…now there are sixty-four different bread recipes and shapes – rolls, loaves of different shapes and sizes, scones…but they each have their recipes and they don’t change them. Hell would freeze over! They have their recipes for cheese…just the same. The tanning of the leather…

         “In every section they have these manuals. Everyone follows a manual. The same for the land, each crop, each area has a manual! The results are predictable and they like that. I once suggested they try dipping freshly deep-fried plaited dough in iced syrup, a treat I had on Earth - ”

 

Neal laughed. “ _I_ know what you mean! A few countries have such a delicacy, different names…too sweet for my taste, and each contains half the calories necessary for the survival of everyone in India for a day or more! Empty calories, for the most part!”

 

“That’s them! Anyway, the way they looked at me, it was as if I’d suggested frying live baby rabbits!

         “So your unexpected and unplanned visit has quite set them all-a-quiver, as my old aunt used to say!”

 

“Probably good for them!” Neal said. “But it explains the expressions on their faces. And what was that remark Lady Shereen made, as though she had been told to stay away from me?

         “Have you made them distrust Earthlings, Dom, with your wild and radical talk of fried pastries?”

 

Dom laughed, but nodded. “They only took a few Earthlings slaves. They didn’t have a manual for us, you see, so it’s been a steep learning-curve for them! Gosh, it’s nice to be able to speak to someone from Earth again! They try and keep Earthlings – any slave group – from their compatriots, so that they don’t feel like rebelling, I assume.”

 

“Forced integration,” Neal nodded.

 

“Something like that. Come, let me show you the fields…you have a horse?”

 

Soon Neal and Dom, with Joster a little way behind, were riding along a road through fields of grain… _huge_ fields. Huge _flat_ fields. Like a giant’s table, covered with grain. The breeze stroked the soft plants and they moved just like waves on a large lake and eventually it felt as though they were walking on a path cut through the sea.

 

“If you get to the right places, you can literally see almost nothing but grain, except for those huge mountains beyond. They still have snow on top, seldom do not!”

 

“Isn’t that inconvenient to harvest?” Neal queried, a little unsure.

 

“It’s a plan!” Dominic winked at him. “It’s in the manuals! They started planting back by the house and worked their way outwards from the house – inwards to the centre of the fields. It’s the same round the edges…started at the edge and worked inwards. I worked on the fields at first, but we’re physically small, really, for this, compared to the people from this planet. Now the crop is a perrenial…it’s something to do with the water…?”

 

“So not like wheat or oats, they do not need to replant? How interesting!” Neal leaned over and took more notice of the actual plants. He had been thinking of them as wheat, they moved like very soft wheat plants, but these weren’t a cereal at all…they weren’t a grass. They were soft little bush-shaped plants, all the flowering heads at one level, like an umbel, as though a head of fennel was five or six times the size of the largest on Earth…and not every plant was the same, either, this wasn’t a monocrop at all, for all it appeared so uniform at first glance. Neal climbed off his horse and quickly Joster came up and took the reins while Neal walked along the edge of the field.

 

“But how do they ensure that the ones near the house flower first?” he asked, puzzled.

 

“Not sure, Neal. Never asked.”

 

Neal nodded. He was used to people not asking things he immediately wanted to know!

 

“There’re houses round the edges: slaves, tenants, freemen. They keep watch. Anyway, the areas planted first ripen first, they start there and work towards the centre of the fields.

“It’s the nearest they get to excitement, I believe, trying to out-harvest the next group along!”

 

“Oh!” Neal exclaimed in some horror.

 

“I’ve gotten used to it, mostly. Now and then I’d like to tear my hair, but mostly it’s comfortable.”

 

“Yeah – comfortable. I see. And the children? I can’t imagine children conforming so easily to – manuals of behaviour.”

 

“So it’s not like this at other Keeps? I’ve never been anywhere else! – but you’re not like them.”

 

“No, it isn’t like this at Steel or Sunder or Laffaysham. There are ways of behaving that are acceptable, but people can find ways of being creative, doing new things.”

 

“A child here doesn’t really have a choice but to behave properly.”

 

Neal stopped and thought. “Well, at the other Keeps – at least at Steel and Sunder – the children are trained in decent behaviour, and some find it easier than others. They are disciplined if their behaviour is harmful to themselves and others, too disruptive, mean-spirited.”

 

“Like back home?”

 

“Like back home a few decades back, mostly,” Neal grinned. He didn’t want to tell Dominic that many things – including child care – had gone back to earlier methods on Earth. It seemed to him that everyone was happier, perhaps because the ones on Earth now were the ones that had survived! Nothing like multiple near-death experiences to put things in perspective! But if he mentioned those things, Dominic would know he had been back and forth.

 

“No-one gets paddled or spanked here,” Dom said, decidedly. “They just can’t take part in the activities. They have to go and think about their behaviour until they decide to join in properly.”

 

Neal frowned a little. “They are…ostracised?”

 

Dom looked straight at him. “It sounds worse when you say it like that. But yes, if they can’t fit in, they aren’t allowed around other children.”

 

“What if they never fit in?” Neal was really bothered by this concept.

 

“It’s harder not to fit in when everyone does the same thing and accepts that it‘s best, Neal. It was hard for me, but eventually it was just easier to go along with the crowd.”

 

Neal was appalled. He couldn’t imagine being trapped – like a bug in their sticky beige porridge – forced to conform or else…yet wasn’t that like prison on Earth? – No, he had to admit – people could be very diverse, at least in the West, and not be criminals, though they are – were – becoming rather sheeple-ish, many of them, not questioning anything! That whole political correctness nonsense, for example!

 

_I’d rather be spanked with a book – or with anything – or for that matter, whipped with a Slaver’s plaited whip - by my Lord than sent away from him, rejected…_

 

The thought startled him, but it was true. Just being pushed away would seem as though his Lord didn’t care for him, didn’t love him unless he conformed to an ideal. And if that was the case, there was no point in trying to behave better. _Not going to make **that** mistake again! Move along…but to do that to a child who had nowhere to go…?_

 

Prison was more like being shunned from a society he didn’t fit into. It saved The Normals from his depredations (his mouth quirked in a grin) but didn’t change who he was. Didn’t give him a reason to change. In fact, rather the opposite. _Few people hire cons, so we are always back to using our well-developed skill-set! Trouble is, being ‘good’ is soo-ooo boring! And though we are removed from the ‘good’ society’, there are so many of us that we have a society of our own, so it’s not the same._

“You’re happy here? Never thought of asking to be sold to somewhere else?”

 

“Found my feet here, now. But – there is something, Neal…” Dom glanced around and Joster, to Neal’s approval, appeared to study the distant clouds and be unaware of their conversation. To help, Neal shuffled his horse away from his man, and Dom followed.

         “There’s something going on. It’s as though people don’t trust me any more. You know – you walk into a room, and everyone stops talking?”

 

“What did you do to start it?”

 

“I swear, Neal, nothing. I know better than that! I’ve been here from the first!”

 

“Don’t rock the boat, baby!”

 

“Rock the boat! Don’t tip the boat over!” Dom half-sang, delighted. Then he sobered and nodded, disquieted. “Not since I first came, the first ten-day – I mentioned the fried bread and thought they were going to gently force me out into the snow to be eaten by the local equivalents of polar bears, if there are such things!”

 

“ _Beige_ polar bears!” Neal couldn’t resist adding.

 

Dom laughed. “Yes! The beige! It’s as though they don’t want to offend anyone, so there’s nothing far from neutral!”

 

Neal nodded. _That’s what’s been eating at the back of my mind…neutral merely means not taking a stand, not having an opinion…not being allowed to have an opinion._

 

“I’m probably making it sound worse than it is!” Dom apologised. “I’m happy here.”

 

“But what if you were addicted to very sweet, fried pastries?”

 

Dom shrugged. “Enough variety for me here.”

 

Neal let his eyes scan the horizon and wondered about the existence of hungry beige polar bears hiding in the sea of green and the dangers of being comfortable.

 

 

 

 

 

End of Chapter 8

 

Thanks to my midnight marathon commentator and all the others, too!


	9. Neal is Startled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal has a meal with the Lord and Lady of Camber and a tour with their daughter...but things seem uneasy. Then he is in turn surprised and startled and then shocked, for his information and assumptions have been wrong.

 

 

 

They went back in time for Neal to make sure he looked spruce and then Shereen came and took him out onto an extensive veranda with many long tables. She took him to the head of the main table and he bowed to Lord and Lady Camber. Merritt followed.

         “Come, sit, Neal of Steel!” Lord Camber said. “Be comfortable! Have you enjoyed looking around a little?”

 

Neal sat. “Very much, Lord Camber! Your delightful daughter told me some of your Keep’s many accomplishments, and then I was shown your incredible grain harvest in the making! You must have reliable weather!”

 

“My ancestors were clever in choosing this location for our Keep, and since then many more clever people have chosen the correct grains and breeds of cattle, and long ago found systems that worked well.”

 

“Mmm.”

 

Neal glanced round. It looked like a set for a Spring Festival in a children’s movie. Soft floating silk banners in pastel colours were hung on tall wrought-iron stands. There were soft pastel flowers in cream-coloured vases down the centre of every table. All the main Keep families and slaves, and all the children were seated on a vast number of tables, other slaves were serving, everyone was smiling. The children weren’t rampaging about as they might have been on earth, dodging back and forth between the tables. They were all sitting decorously on chairs that had been raised so they could eat at the table.

 

“Is this a special celebration, Lord and Lady? It is very pretty.”

 

“We seldom have a single guest at Camber Keep,” Lady Camber said, smiling a little. “It is either a huge reception, a wedding or the Promising of a child, or nothing! We entertain dinner guests sometimes, but they are not usually nobility, but business partners.”

 

“I am honoured, Lady Camber, but you know I am only nobility by adoption, and that very recent.”

 

“Nobility nonetheless!” she insisted, determinedly.

 

“Caerrovon is a good friend,” Lord Camber agreed. “We are glad he has taken heirs.”

 

“Better if you convinced him to take a wife, young as he is!” Lady Camber said. “He is an only child and he is being foolish not to. Fate has troubled Steel Keep in recent generations!”

 

“Yes, someone sensible and matter-of-fact like our dear Breda,” Lord Camber smiled. “She is pretty enough for any Keep’s high table!”

 

“My Lord,” Neal smiled a little impishly back, “is looking for love as well as a family!”

 

“Love,” Lady Camber said, “is for people in those romantic novels my great grandchildren read before bed. You know how these things work, Neal. A Lord needs a good woman, and children. They will develop an understanding as the seasons progress.”

 

Neal wondered why the term ‘good woman’ sounded so unromantic, unlovely and unexciting! The picture of marital tedium her words painted for him made him long for any of his wild and unsteady partners! Heaven’s, Rebecca – Rachel! – would have been preferable, even if the marriage would have had a strong flavour of _Basic Instinct!_

 

        _Though it’s nice to know they allow fiction, even if it’s just bowdlerised bodice-rippers!_

 

“Is it not possible for a marriage to be between two people who love each other _and_ like each other and are good for each other?” he asked.

 

Lord Sunder leaned across his wife and patted Neal’s arm. “You are young yet.”

 

Neal stole the signet ring right off his finger. _Patronising old fool!  Well - his ideas are old, very old!_

 

Neal glanced round. Everyone looked happy, or at least contented.

 

There were times for contentment, Neal acknowleged: sitting with Mozzie with a second half-empty elegant black bottle of old-vine White Lees Shiraz between them, a fire dying to embers off to one side, silently contemplating the spoils of a perfectly executed heist : enough excitement for him, little enough for Mozzie, for whom, rather like Roald Amundsen, excitement meant poor planning!

 

But that contentment had elements of exhaustion, relief and a few alcohol fumes. It was the afterglow, and very enjoyable, but had nothing on the heady excitement of the foreplay of the same hiest, to say nothing of the climax…

 

He put his beige linen napkin to his lips, imagining his hosts’ faces were he to share his thoughts!

 

The conversation went on pleasantly, and Neal asked if perhaps Lady Shereen could show him the architecture and art of their lovely, comfortable Keep. He said he had liked her very much, she explained things very well and he felt comfortable with her. He kept a completely straight face, feeling almost mean at using verbal judo against them… _but then, that’s who I am, that’s what I do!_

“Of course, Neal! We can spare Shereen for a time this evening,” Lord Camber said. “She is a very good girl, Shereen.”

 

Lady Camber didn’t look as pleased with this plan, but couldn’t very well object. Pushing his advantage, Neal added, “And, in addition to being Steel Keep’s resident artist, I teach at our school, and I would so like to attend your morning school-time and perhaps observe and spend some time with your so-pretty children.”

 

Lady Camber looked uncertain, but again, Lord Camber nodded. “Of course! They are well-behaved and polite, they know exactly how to greet strangers from other Keeps.”

 

“I am sure they are, Lord Camber! I am so looking forward to seeing your school, which is so much larger than Steel Keep’s school, of course! We are a very young and small Keep by your standards!”

 

“Well, you are right, we are a comfortably established Keep! But we started out small, long ago, and built on the trusted and true, my boy, and so shall Steel grow, also, I am convinced.”

 

“I feel comforted to hear you say so, Lord Camber. It is a comfortable thought.”

 

_Now you’re just being naughty, Neal!_

 

 

After they had all eaten enough to be…comfortably full – Lady Camber actually said it! – Shereen came up the long table at a word from one of the slaves, and her father told her she was to take Neal around and show him the long galleries and all the architecture and art he could wish to see.

 

He wondered what there would be…his mind supplied him with an image of a beige-on-cream Pollock and he choked.

        

“Sir Neal – are you all right?”

 

“I am very well, Shereen! Your Keep has very good chefs! The food was very varied and good!”

 

“We like to eat well,” she said, ignoring the fact that he called her ‘Shereen’, without the title. “We often eat that meal …a very late lunch or early dinner.”

 

“Dom and Susan would call it high tea…well, Susan would!”

 

She strode along, her ankle-length skirts sweeping with her strides. The Camber female slaves often wore trousers, or knee-length skirts, but the Camber ladies with claim to nobility, and their personal women, wore long, well-cut dresses that would have been elegant and even beautiful if they weren’t all _beige!_

However, despite Neal’s misgivings, there were many rather lovely portraits, landscapes, sculptures…though their colours _were_ all soft and muted. Shereen told him about them, showed him the portrait of the present Lord’s mother and father who had died in a wagon accident, the details of which Neal didn’t ask though it sounded an odd way for a Lord and Lady to die.

 

_I’ll ask my Lord about it!_

 

The sculptures were all rounded and pleasing. There were also many more pictures and sculptures of plants – grain, mostly, but not exclusively, and animals, horses and cattle, even some of the chicken-reptiles. All very tame and happy and comfortable-looking!

 

 _Peter would like everything here!_ Neal thought, amused. Comfortable, pretty, pleasing, nothing edgy at all! Nothing wrong with that, despite some Earthling arty-types’ scorn, as though a painting had to make you want to throw up to be any good.

If the Camberites wanted comforting, let them have comforting! The technique was almost all of a very high standard, and Neal appreciated each single piece…though together they seemed a little overwhelming!

 

As they walked along, Neal’s first impression was heightened. The arches were all rounded…Tudor arches, all identical. Every sharp corner or angle had been smoothed, rounded. The floors were smooth and pleasant to walk on. Nothing jarred…except the very sameness!

 

There were many little bays within the arched verandas they walked, with pleasant seats built into to the back wall so one could sit and enjoy the garden and the verdant view.

 

The Camber walls also showed some arrays of weapons, and the written history of those shown, but there were more artistically arranged groupings of agricultural implements, some obviously showing the development of said tools from their very simple beginnings to the more sophisticated in present use. The scythes and sickles and long-tined forks, a little like Earth pitch-forks were both interesting and had appealing curves and angles.

 

Shereen was noticeably quiet. She answered Neal’s questions, but briefly.

 

Neal glanced back and Merritt moved away inconspicuously and Neal made a mental note to praise his developing abilities. He then turned to Shereen and asked bluntly, “Shereen, please tell me, have I done anything to annoy you or cause you to be displeased with me?”

 

“Oh!” she said, and blushed furiously. “Oh, no!”

 

Neal watched her, amazed at this reaction. “But, lady, what have I done?”

 

“I am such a bad daughter,” Shereen mourned, finding a kerchief …beige…and wiping her eyes. “My mother will be so cross with me!”

 

“ _Why!”_ demanded Neal, getting weary of all the melodramatic tears and moans. Unlike Peter, he could handle female tears in reasonable circumstances… even take advantage of them!… but usually his girlfriends were more likely, if he upset them, to pull a gun or punch him than cry! He spent a minute pondering why that seemed preferable before Shereen continued,

 

“We never make our guests uncomfortable! It is not done! And I have!”

 

“Well, I know not if I would call it uncomfortable, Shereen, you just seem to wish to be doing anything else. And I cannot understand why you would feel that way. ”

 

“I have no feelings for you…or against you, Neal. You seem perfectly nice and well-mannered to me. I have no idea why my mother told me to avoid you, not encourage you.”

 

“Encourage me to what?” Neal demanded, with deep forboding.

_Does this poor girl – or her mother – think I came here looking for a **wife**? _

 

“I know not exactly what, Neal. I believe she merely wants you to leave as soon as is possible.”

 

_Well, that’s not very polite, but it’s better than them thinking I am hanging out for a rich wife…from Camber! No, that’s not fair, there are probably hundreds of lovely girls here that I haven’t met…but Shereen?_

“Well, Lady Shereen, I shall then attempt to make your life easier and bring this tour to a close. Thank you very much for your company and your help. And do not be upset, you were only obeying your mother’s wishes, after all. I shall tell her tonight that I will only be staying to the end of tomorrow, and you can claim that you helped make my decision for me. Then she will be pleased with you. You can tell her I had no idea you were hinting me in that direction.”

 

“Thank you, Neal. You are very kind,” Shereen sniffed, and Neal let her lead him back to the main area of the Keep. He then asked her if she would take him to Lord Camber and she sniffed again, looking fearfully at him.

         “Child, I am not going to tell him you were rude or abrupt with me! I shall make very sure I tell him our time together was comfortable. But I would like to spend a little time with him before I go…tomorrow!

“Perhaps you should go and splash your face with water before we find your father!”

 

Neal sat on a window-ledge and looked out over the pretty, organised flower-garden. Merritt drifted closer and whispered, “Did you understand that, Master Neal?”

 

“Not in the slightest, unless the girl is the hysterical type!” Neal replied, softly.

 

“From what Joster and I have seen, they are all a little more…they do not….” Merritt ran down and Neal waited patiently. Eventually he went on, “It is, Master Neal, as though they strive so hard to keep everything the same that any little change seems catastrophic.”

 

Neal smiled up (and up) at his man. “Merritt, Joster recommended you, and you are both proving your worth. I think you are right. Dominic said it, in his own way. I could hardly credit it, but then my life has been a series of abrupt changes. Anything less seems almost boring to me!”

 

Merritt glowed at the praise. He had little experience with Earthlings. He knew few other species, though he knew about Tamlin and Shiral and their gifts, and had listened to Joster’s stories about the Earthlings: effervescent, combative and moody by turns, and marvelled that his Lord could enjoy their company, find them amusing. He was beginning to understand, though. This Master Neal had something, something that drew one in and made one want to please him.

 

 

 

Shereen returned, more composed. Neal stood and said to Merritt, “Go, you can do whatever you choose till I call for you, both of you. Leave a note in the suite if you are not going to be there, so I know where you have gone.”

 

And then followed Shereen to the door of her father’s study. She knocked and then opened the door and looked in.

 

“Father, Neal would like to spend a little time with you, if you are available?”

 

Lord Camber said something, obviously an affirmative, as Shereen showed Neal into the room closing the door after him.

 

“I am sorry to bother you, Lord Camber, but I probably can not stay as long as I hoped, and I earnestly want to speak to you, in private.”

 

“Come and sit, Neal,” Lord Camber said, and after Neal had settled, he said to the Lord, “Lord Camber, I have the utmost respect for you and your family, your massive Keep, everything you have accomplished here…”

 

“Thank you, Neal.”

 

“…but I do not understand why I have the impression that you do not like me, or perhaps trust me. Am I wrong in this impression, Lord? Pray tell me if I have done something to offend you, for if I have, you have my abject apologies, and my assurance that it was unintentional.”

 

Neal watched the play of emotions across the Lord’s face as he produced this little speech. The Lord was horrified, almost scared that Neal was abuptly laying his cards on the table…and not at all in a diplomatic manner, either! There was a long, awkward pause. Neal sat, folded his hands and prepared to out-wait the older man across the desk from him. He had played this game before. The first to speak, loses.

 

Eventually, when the tension had drawn bow-tight, the Lord huffed and said, “Neal of Steel, I apologise. It is inexcusable that you should have felt that way. My daughter - ”

 

         “ – excuse me, Lord Camber, but your daughter has been nothing but polite towards me. But she is inexperienced in prevarication and it was not hard to see that she had been told to avoid me and then to try and press me to cut my visit short – which I shall gladly do. I wish you had asked me directly, but I am happy to oblige.

         “However, I think it would be merely polite on your part to explain to me why you feel this way when, other than the party at Steel Keep quite a long time ago now, we have not properly met? – and then I was a lowly slave!”

 

Lord Camber sat up straighter and frowned. “You are not in a position to speak of politeness, boy! How dare you speak to me as you have? Have you no respect for your elders?”

 

Neal shook his head. “Merely because they are older than I am? No, Lord, none at all, unless they are ancient, which you certainly are not. You are very young for a Lord, though not as young as _my_ Lord!

         “I mean no disrespect, Lord Camber, but I feel I am being judged on actions I am unaware of committing, and that seems not fair to me, or my father.”

 

Lord Camber sat back and huffed a bit more. “Insolent pup!” he murmured, but with less animosity in his voice.

 

“Others have thought so, Lord Camber,” Neal grinned a little, thinking of a furious Steel and a very dirty Neal kneeling before him. “But I am truly just wanting to know what I have done so that I may rectify it, if that is possible. Does that seem insolent, Lord Camber?”

 

Lord Camber stared across the expanse of desk. (it was a nicely rounded desk, bleached-blonde oak, if the wood had been an Earth wood, Neal thought absently, his eyes on the Lord’s face.)

 

“I do not know if your father knew what he was about when he sent you on this little journey!”

 

“He is an unusual father, Lord Camber. I love him dearly. He trusts me, even though he has come to understand that he never knows what I next will do.”

 

“I could cut off all trade with your Keep, boy!”

 

“You could. My father would not be at all pleased with me. But I will find him other trading partners who are less easily offended by someone wanting to put something right.

.........“And, Lord Camber, as I understand it, no-one else on the planet can manufacture bone-handled silverware for your table in anything like the quantity we supply, or the kitchen utensils you so obviously need. You use a reasonable amount of glassware, Lord Camber, which comes from Laffaysham – but it is our sand that goes into the making of the glass, and Laffaysham is bound to my father by blood. And as for the amount of material your Keep uses…”

 

“All right, all right – you negotiate like a Slaver! No need to threaten me.”

 

“I have no wish to threaten you nor, to be honest, to negotiate or trade with you, Lord Camber. I would leave that to men with better diplomatic skills than I possess but, Lord, I must point out that I was merely giving you your own coin again!”

 

Lord Camber suddenly smiled and his whole face lit up. “I shall write to Caerrovon and tell him to thrash his presumptuous pup, Neal!”

 

Neal grinned. “No doubt he would be pleased to do it for his friend, Lord Camber, but I am not leaving your Keep in comfortable peace until I know why you feel the way you do – _especially_ if I am to be punished one way or the other!”

 

“Oh, assume not that is my final play! If you insist in inflicting your unwanted company upon me, I could thrash you here before I send you forth! How much more humiliating that would be, son of Steel!”

 

“I have been told you never punish the children here except by… segregation.”

 

“Your information is wrong!  That restricted in our choices we are not, though we try to keep everything calm if we have that option. Such a hide-bound policy would leave us open to any sudden attack.

“I admit, we would rather try to reason with our children; physical punishment is a last resort.”

 

“I assure you most earnestly, Lord Camber, you have not yet _nearly_ exhausted the possibilities of trying to reason with this child!” Neal quirked another grin, bright blue eyes innocently wide, surprised to be having this conversation with the Lord of a Keep full of people he had been beginning to think were almost insanely conformist!

 

“I remember you now, from that party! You were slipping those poor drunken soldiers spirits from a flask so they were incapable of standing! I should have locked down the Keep before letting you in!”

 

“That was indeed me, Lord Camber. It is not a general rule of mine to waste quality liquor, there was a very good reason!”

 

The Lord stood up and pulled the bell-pull. “I need some wine! Wine or tea for you, Neal?”

 

“I am not my father, Lord. I like good wine!”

 

“Good!”

 

A slave arrived shortly and hurried off. Within a few minutes a large tray was brought: wine, tea, cheeses and breads on platters.

 

“I would liked to have stayed and tasted all your cheeses, Lord Camber. I visited several areas on my planet where the variety of cheeses might even rival your own. It is a way of life, there, cheeses, wines – food in general.”

 

“I shall have someone make you up a basket for the road,” the Lord said, drily, and Neal chuckled.

 

They both said little while the wine breathed, eating the dainty little triangles of different breads and cheeses, and then, after sipping the wine, Lord Camber said, awkwardly, “It is not you, Neal. There has been some talk, though, about what you said at the meeting at Laffaysham.

         “It is possible that some people have concluded that, since these odd deaths about which we were conferring started not long after the first shipments of Earthlings arrived that a disease came with the Earthlings and began to infest healthy young people from this planet.”

        

Neal stared, mid-sip, and many things fell into place. He put down the glass.

 

“I mentioned it, not because I thought the Earthlings had brought the disease… _oh,_ _no!”_

“Yet it is possible.”

 

“It is always possible for one species, or even just a disparate group of the same species, to bring diseases for which the local group has no defence. It happened between groups on our planet.”

        He thought with some nausea of blankets infected with small-pox being given to the Native American peoples. He wasn’t going to mention that! Some Earthlings truly didn’t seem to have any redeeming factors. Even though the diseases appeared to have been contracted by those same tribes in other ways, the intent had been there.

 

Lord Camber drank deeply of his greenish-white wine and, carefully not looking at Neal, said, “There is a growing number of people who, rightly or wrongly, feel that at _least_ it is in our best interests to have little to do with Earthlings, and certainly not to entertain them unnecessarily.”

 

“I do see. A reasonable precaution. Until we have word back from the Chiri, we have no idea what this thing may be. I am sorry if I was touchy about your feelings about me, Lord Camber. Considering the dreadful possibilities, you have been very kind.”

 

“It is almost certainly nonsense, Neal. There have been similar numbers of deaths amongst those Keeps with many Earthlings, such as yours and Betchem, and Sunder and ours, which have less.”

 

“But if we were all somehow carriers of this disease…it is possible! And the people here, on this planet, almost to a man, have been very welcoming towards me. I would be horrified if – if - ”

 

“Neal, **_if,_** all unknowingly, you brought this upon us, we could hardly blame you, and you should never blame yourselves! You were abducted!”

 

“But my father – I could have infected my _father_ \- !”

 

“Neal, stop it!” Lord Camber exclaimed, hearing the real horror in Neal’s voice. “We have no way of knowing this, my boy! It is the smallest chance!” He stood and came across to Neal and, instinctively, Neal drew back. Lord Camber was having none of it, however, and pulled him to his feet and hugged him. After a moment, Neal relaxed a little, but his eyes were still haunted.

 

“I shall make preparations and leave forthwith, Lord Camber!”

 

“Neal, leaving your emotions out of this, what are the chances of this being a disease that the Earthlings have brought from their – your – planet? Something that affects all the races here in a similar manner, that the Chiri cannot feel at all, with all their ability?”

 

Neal swallowed and tried to leave his emotions out of it…but his Lord, when he claimed him as son and heir, had kissed him! And then Mozzie! If anyone was infected, it was Caerrovon Steel! And if his father suddenly died, two _Earthlings_ would take over the Keep, which no-one would accept if they had brought death to the planet and killed the Lord-Keeper!

_Everyone I love dies…or leaves. Well…not Mozzie…_

 

“Breathe, boy!” Camber told him, giving him a little shake.

 

Neal obeyed, damping his emotions in case the Keep Sensitives should respond, and said, rather shakily, “The chances are slim, Lord Camber, but not zero. I should leave.”

 

“I think we should speak to Kitran, Neal, before you pack up and depart in the middle of the night! What would my people say? They would think we had quarrelled.”

 

“Well, we came quite close to it, Lord Camber!”

 

“We crossed swords, Neal, we were like two bulls sizing each other up to see who will get the herd!”

 

“I apologise for my presumption, Lord. You were quite right…I could be your grandson, I had no right to test you.”

 

“Caerrovon said something to me at Laffaysham, and I agree…you look young, in days you may be young, but if anyone says you are a child in my hearing, I will tell them they had better try dealing with you before they underestimate you!”

 

Neal realised that the Lord was trying to cheer him up, and he smiled a little. “Good! It sounded as though you were very willing to treat me as your wayward grandson, Lord!”

 

“Oh, I was, and no doubt will again if you are so outspoken! We always shared our children, the Lord-Keepers: praised them and punished them and comforted them as necessary when they were at our Keeps, treated them the same as ours!”

 

Neal glanced up, and said, “I shall remember that! My Lord should have told me that little fact! And you must tell me about my father some day, Lord Camber! Was he always so good and kind?”

 

“Always, Neal!” Lord Camber chuckled. “I am not giving away your father’s secrets!

“Now let me get hold of Kitran. He surely will be here by morning.”

 

“If he is available. He might not know anything, of course.”

 

They sat and finished the bottle of wine between them, but spoke little. Neal went to bed and tried very hard not to think of Steel of Steel Keep dying long before his time.

 

 

 

 

End of Chapter 9

 

I liked this one! Something for everyone...perhaps!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bowdlerise - edit by omitting or modifying parts considered indelicate; "bowdlerize a novel" - my thesaurus and spellcheck didn't know it


	10. It Would Have to be Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kitran returns with the Chiri's thoughts and plans and it is a disquieting procedure that would give them the final proof. 
> 
> While impatiently waiting, Neal finds out if the children of Camber are a lost cause.

 

 

 

 

 

Joster woke Neal from a fitful sleep into which he had finally fallen.

         “Master Neal, Lord Camber is asking for you.”

 

Neal scrambled up, remembering the conversations of the previous night…confrontational, then teasing and then…quite terrifying. Joster held his clothes for him and then he wet his hair and ran his fingers through it roughly, wanting to hear what Lord Camber had to say.

         “I hope to have time to shave before breakfast, or whatever meal they eat here…brunch?” he added in English. “When do they eat the first meal, Joster?”

 

“A very late breakfast, before mid-day, Master Neal. Most people are out in the fields first thing, and come in when it is getting very hot. I will have everything ready!”

 

“Thank you! My Lord,” he swallowed a little, “my Lord was right…it is useful to have someone such as yourself looking after me when I am busy or distracted.”

 

“Having a man behind you shows the respect due to you, Master.”

 

Neal smiled and left. He still wasn’t used to this whole ‘master’ business, he was only used to people behind him either watching him with suspicion, or chasing after him!

 

Merritt walked with him, but Neal reached the Lord’s door first and knocked, making Merritt frown. “I’m in a hurry, Merritt, and though I appreciate having the two of you, I am not incapable of knocking on a door!”

 

The Lord’s man opened the door and Neal went in, asking Merritt to wait outside. The Lord’s personal man left also. Neal saw Kitran immediately.

 

“Kitran, Lord Camber,” he bowed to both of them, “I came as quickly as I could.”

 

Kitran just smiled. The Chiri really preferred not to talk much, it seemed, at least in Sheel. Lord Camber replied, “Kitran was able to get here early and I thought we should talk as soon as possible, Neal.”

 

“Yes, I agree, Lord Camber.”

 

“Can you repeat what you told me, Kitran, please?” Lord Camber said, waving them all to seats by the window.

 

Kitran also had a voice free of harmonics, more like birdsong or a bell than a human voice, though slightly lower-pitched than Lira’s. “Neal, I understand your concern. This possibility was brought to my attention earlier and Lira and I spent some time considering it.

         “Not all the victims even worked near an Earthling. In the case of two of them, we can find not that they even ever spoke to an Earthling! Yet there are two marriages between Earthlings and local slaves, and those locals are thriving.”

 

“But, Kitran, that means nothing, surely,” Neal pointed out. “We know that a …a group – say a prison ward full of men – can be exposed to a disease and only a third will catch the disease. Some people just seem more susceptible and perhaps that is the case here. And since we have no knowledge of how it is being spread, it could be a pathogen passed in food an Earthling has touched, on a door handle, a gardening tool, as easily as by personal contact. Or it could be carried by an insect.”

 

“I do not think so, Neal. We have had an older Chiri, many, many hundreds of four-seasons older than I, with a great deal of experience, visit the bodies that are still available, kept in ice-houses. She confirms there is something unnatural about the deaths, but that it is not a disease. She feels an energy, but it is nothing she has felt before. She showed it to Lira and myself.”

 

“You know Earthlings, and Lira knows all of us, the Steel-Keep Earthlings. Are you sure it is not us, in any way?”

 

“Not completely. If we had to make a judgement, it would be that it has nothing to do with the Earthlings. We cannot feel this energy in any of you… but until we can Read one of you, we cannot be certain.”

 

“Read?” Lord Camber asked, before Neal could do so.

 

“It is not something we normally do, Sherfel,” Kitran turned to him. “It is invasive in the extreme. To put it in your terms, it is as though we suspect a cake of being poisoned. We Chiri can take the cake apart till it is not just the flour, the eggs and so on, but individual molecules, sift them and find the poison. We can do that to a living being, but of course, the cake would be destroyed, the living being remains.”

 

“You would have to do this to every Earthling? It sounds horrible!” Lord Camber exclaimed.

 

“No. One thing we have ascertained – if it is some energy, or chemical from the Earthlings, it has to be coming from most if not all the Earthlings, just from the spread of the deaths. There have been others at other Keeps, not Alliance Keeps, and sometimes there is only one Earthling there and some have none, though there has been extremely limited contact between a slave or two and an Earthling!”

 

“You need a volunteer to be dissected?” Neal asked, soberly.

 

“Yes, it is not something that anyone would choose to have done. Your peoples, I mean. With us it is different, we Chiri share everything but the personal secrets of other species with which we work. This we would not force it onto anyone. It seems loathsome and frightening to the more physical species of human.”

 

“Is it safe?” Lord Camber demanded.

 

“It is safe for the being physically, Sherfel, but it is done so seldom that all I can tell you is that it has caused emotional trauma in some of the beings that underwent a Read a great deal of time in the past. We have since avoided it.”

 

“You would know if this energy or whatever it is exists in Earthlings, but you would also know…?” Neal hesitated.

 

“The Chiri would know everything about the Earthling. We experienced …” Kitran paused, thinking, then continued, “…perhaps viewed the procedures when they were done? – in the mind of the oldest Chiri – and of course, they were not Earthling subjects, but your type of humans can forget or blur memories, it seems, so they are not conscious of them, cannot access them. The Chiri accessed every memory, everything that had ever happened to the person since conception, every sound his ears had ever heard, every thought he had ever had. It is possible – it is possible that because of that there may have been some …leakage and the subject could not handle all of those memories.”

 

“It will have to be me.” Neal was completely calm.

 

Lord Camber immediately stood. “No, I forbid it!”

 

“Lord Camber,” Neal smiled rather wearily, “you cannot.”

 

“I can. I told you, Neal, while you are under my roof, you are as my child, and I will not allow it.”

 

“Firstly, I have to try and appeal to you to understand: I am young in your four-seasons, but my species matures in half the time and I am truly not a child, Lord Camber. In my world I have been legally able to enter into a contract for half my life! I could have been married for that time and had many children of my own.

         “I do not mind playing with you, my Lord, but I am not a child, in any way that means anything at all.

         “And it does not have to be under your roof, Sir. I was planning to ride out today anyway. But one thing I would ask, Kitran – could Lira do it, please? Meaning no offense, but I know her from a while back. I would feel more comfortable with this if she could do it?”

 

“Neal, you need to at least speak to your father first, son. It sounds dangerous and at the very least exceedingly troubling for you.”

 

“I would rather it be over,” Neal said, knowing full well that his Lord would do everything in his power to prevent it. “It is not as though I have buried my memories, Lord Camber, truly. Some are uncomfortable, but I am aware of them all. I have handled them once. I can do so again.”

 

“You would have to ride home?” Lord Camber asked.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Neal,” Kitran approached him and laid a hand on his shoulder, “let me go and ask your father. I will find Lira and return.”

 

“Please, no, Kitran…!”

 

“But yes, you are underage…well, Neal, you certainly _are_ underage in our seasons! - and under my roof,” Lord Camber told him. “We need your father’s hand on this.”

 

Looking up at the determined Lord-Keeper and the Chiri, Neal gave way, but said, “Tell him I have no doubt I can do this. I want this over, one way or the other…I want to know if it is the Earthlings, or not. If we have caused this awful thing, however unwitting, and if we are still a threat.

“And he made me his heir, and that gives me privileges in this society but, please remind him, imposes responsibilities, too. We are to protect the people – and for me, this is especially, but not exclusively true of the Earthlings. I must act as their representative in this.”

 

“I will return by mid-day, Neal,” Kitran told him, nodded to Lord Camber, and walked out of the room.

 

“You are very brave, Neal,” Lord Camber told him. “I would be proud if my son were so fearless.”

 

“I hate to sully this image you have of me, Lord Camber, it is nice to feel appreciated… _but -_ it just is not accurate. Firstly, I have had to be self-aware and have a very good memory, so trauma is less likely for me. Then, there is my past. And you must never tell my father I told you this, or he will likely ruin a perfectly good book!

         “Before I was captured and brought here, I was working for a government institution catching criminals. I was not always on that side of the law, and even then, I had a foot in either side of that battle line! Before that I was a criminal from a very young age – what _we_ consider young!

“I never hurt anyone, I never used violence, but I was a criminal. My father says I must not say it anymore…and I suppose I am not saying I am a criminal – I _was_ a criminal. But criminals, conmen, we need to know all the lies we tell, all the false characters we create - and have a very good memory of them, keep them all organised as we switch between them. A misstep could be fatal.

“And, Lord, I am still of that mind-set. Most Earthlings are less aware and, if I say truly, less ambivalent about the law – they keep it, the majority of them and the majority of the law. Therefore if anyone should risk this procedure, it should be me.”

 

“As a penalty for being a criminal? So your law system never caught you, punished you?”

 

“I was in a prison, kept away from society for more than four years…oh! – two or three four-seasons? - Lord Camber. Then a…a friend who worked for the government and had caught me wanted my help and, so long as I helped him catch criminals, he kept me out of the prison, but I was …watched…they could tell where I was at all times.”

 

Lord Camber observed him. “That sounds very unpleasant. All of it. It cured you not of wanting to break the law?”

 

“No, though it was unpleasant, sometimes horrible. But the law seemed often arbitrary, often stupid and the lawmen often corrupt. In fact, the whole system seemed corrupted and stifling. And a lot of time obeying the law seemed very boring to me.”

 

“I see.” The Lord thought a moment, then shook his head. “No, I understand not, Neal!”

 

“Our planet is different from your society here, Lord. Here, from what I have seen, anyone can live a good life, even as a slave, as long as they are with the correct owner. I have never felt as free and as loved as I do at Steel Keep, even when I wore my collar…which I still have. I know some of the slave owners are evil, which is why we must stop those types of men owning other people – or any living thing, I believe!

“But you, Lord Camber, and my Lord and Lord Betchem – you truly are like our fathers if we are in your Keep. I was blessed to be bought by my Lord. We _belong_ here, all of us. I did not, on Earth.”

 

“I do not see how it worked …you were working with something like our Military? I can see how you would not like that!”

 

Neal laughed! “No, Lord Camber, it was not that bad! The individuals I worked with most closely were a higher calibre, I trusted them…” he cleared his throat, but it wasn’t worth going into detail. “But the whole society has changed. Everyone is …there is no…there is no love, Lord.”

 

Lord Camber was not enlightened.

 

Neal tried again, only just working this all out for himself. “The people I worked with, they were colleagues. If one of them was promoted, they would leave and another person would take their place, we will probably not see the original person again. So we learn not to build strong bonds.

“Whereas here, my Lord was kind enough to save us from the Slaver, and we lived in his care and he protected us and then, later, some of my friends went back to Earth and I stayed and he made me his son. But the relationship I had with him changed not. The relationship I had with his communications lady, Tamlin, changed not. My relationship with Joster, my man here, changed not and I do not expect them to do so. Things are more stable, permanent, here. We are all fond of each other, like family.”

 

“My slaves sometimes ask if they can leave, be bought by Lord Laffay or your father, Neal.”

 

“Exactly! If they feel they would be more at home there.”

 

Neal thought of how the Earth had been. He mustn’t let Lord Camber know he’d been back. “Whereas back on Earth, the family is perhaps a man, a woman, a child or two and it is that unit struggling to survive in my society. The society _may_ give help in times of urgent need – a huge disaster, for example. But the love is missing.

“It is a faceless administration that takes money from every member of the society without consent and may, or may not, help this family in need. Other members of the society may choose to help, but often they feel that because the administration takes money to provide help, well, they resent having to pay for help that comes not, or is inadequate, and provide the help as well!

         “And because it is a business, without love, the administration is always trying to pay out less money, help less people, make excuses not to give aid…it is a business, not a family, hardly even a society.

“I am probably not explaining this very well.”

 

“It sounds…cold.”

 

“It can be. Some people thrive there, some people – we call it ‘falling through the cracks’…they are left out, marginalised, unsupported and unappreciated by society.

         “We have, at Steel, a very elderly Master of the Horse, his name is Klenalth. On Earth, he probably would have been forced to retire. He physically cannot do everything he used to do. But there will always be a place for him at Steel. He will never be useless. He will help, or teach, or just sit in the sun if he wants to do so. No-one would think of forcing him to go away to a hospital, an institution, or – somewhere else. His home will always be at Steel.”

 

“And on Earth?”

 

“He could not stay at his workplace. There is not enough money in the system to keep him there. He would be replaced by someone younger, stronger.”

 

“Stupider.”

 

“Sometimes! Certainly without the experience!”

 

“It seems not only cold, but cruel and stupid.”

 

“It is a very large problem. I cannot tell where it started or how to fix it. I think it started with the mechanisation of everything. It was supposed to free people from the land and from tedious and repetitive labour, but somehow everything has conspired, at least in the country in which I lived, to erode people’s free time and freedom. In many places the people are now counted as the machines…merely an asset. In fact, it is exactly what the Earthlings think happens in all societies where there is slavery! Yet I have experienced the very opposite.

“On Earth now they have …communications devices with them all the time, and though they work hard and often long hours, they are not well off…they almost all owe ridiculously large amounts that they will never pay down. And the country as a whole also owes money. There are many homeless people, children living in poverty.” He was, of course, still describing Earth before the Alien Wars. Now almost all the debt was wiped out, computers were gone. People could start again. And churches and community groups were helping individuals, working together.

         “And one of the contributing factors is the state of health of many of the older people…I have not seen one person here that is bed-ridden or unable to do _anything._ That may be the Chiri, I know not.”

 

“The Chiri do not help all the Keeps, Neal. But still, most people work until a few days before they die. Not all the time, they have a great deal of free time doing things they love, at least in the Armed Keeps, but no, they are not sick for long anywhere.”

 

“For all those reasons, the majority of Earthlings could not live truly good lives, did not have adequate choices, felt as though they had nowhere to belong.

“I believe it was because of corruption…crime…in those in positions of authority, and therefore I saw…and really to this day _see_ no reason to uphold laws upheld by those authorities, especially if they seem unreasonable or stupid. It is set up so that if one does not become a pawn of that system the ways of making any money are almost nil, other than by engaging in illegal activities. I stole pieces of art… but almost everything of great worth has a history of being stolen, or appropriated, or is tainted with blood directly or indirectly.

“I am truly blessed to have been abducted and bought by Steel! And most Earthlings feel very surprised that I can say that…people who did not come here. They understand not about the love.”

 

Neal bit his lip, eyes downcast. _Dash!_ He had been so eagerly trying to explain how the systems differed that he had inadvertently told Lord Camber that he had contact with Earthlings who had never experienced this planet…and therefore he had been to Earth and back!

 

Lord Camber smiled a little. “I am your father’s good friend, Neal. We share a great deal of trust. He and I have seen much together and he tells me things. Things I keep mainly to myself. Worry not, son. Your family’s secret is safe.”

 

“He told you, Lord Camber?” Neal asked with relief. “That was very stupid of me!”

 

“Yes, very, but you are under strain and have not slept, am I wrong?”

 

“I slept a little, Lord.”

 

“Come, we of the nobility must put on a face to hide troubles, Neal.”

 

“Yes, my Lord – a conman does, too – but I need to have this face shaved, first! I hurried over, Lord, excuse me!”

 

“Go, I shall see you at breakfast in a short while.”

 

Again, it was lucky that Neal had Merritt and Joster, with whom he was becoming very relaxed – he actually fell asleep while Joster shaved him! They had everything ready and woke him in time to get to the table, looking and feeling much better.

 

He smiled around, seeing Shereen and Lady Camber and other faces he recognised, feeling more at home since he’d confronted the Lord and of course able to put on as good a show as ever - but he wasn’t really hungry. What if it was proven that the Earthlings had brought the disease – the condition – whatever it was? He and Mozzie would have to leave Steel Keep and leave Lord Steel forever. Neal could not imagine such a thing. He could not imagine leaving his father forever. It was worse than any nightmare. He’d finally found a home, some one he could lean on and trust, a real father…to lose that again…!

 

 

 

 

Joster and Merritt were not Sensitives, but they weren’t idiots, either, and were beginning to understand their alien master a little. He didn’t pretend much when they were together, and they knew he was troubled. After the meal, Shereen told him she would take him to see the school, and Joster tugged his sleeve and whispered, “Room first, Master Neal, please?”

 

He told Shereen he would join her as soon as possible, and when they reached his suite, Joster and Merritt jubilantly showed him seven huge, bright butterflies they had caught for him! They were fluttering in a make-shift cage of fine silk over a small upturned table.

 

Seeing their smiling faces, Neal felt touched by their concern. The butterflies were too big to hide in anyone’s hands…with the possible exception of Tallk’s!…and he couldn’t think how to use them. His brain refused to work! Too big a part of it was worrying at the death-mystery problem, and his potential part in it!

 

However, he couldn’t let his men down, and thanked them profusely for their efforts!

 

“We have matching flowers, Master, to go with them!” Merritt added, showing him a posy they had made.

 

He grinned, despite his concerns, wishing he had a video of two tall warriors chasing butterflies and picking matching wildflowers and bearing them triumphantly back to his rooms!

 

He had to improvise wildly, ran with Merritt to the kitchens and found a large, circular loaf of bread…about two feet across! …and ran back. They carefully cut two circles out of the crust – one at the top, one on one side and scraped out the inside, his two trusty (and young) warriors snacking on the soft bread and filling the odd empty space left by a hearty breakfast, and he went to meet Shereen feeling much better for all the activity!

 

They went to the school. It was massive, and, like Steel’s school, many of the freemen and artisans children joined the Keep classes. Neal wasn’t sure if they had invented the school uniform because, surprise! Everyone was dressed in beige!

The classes had been told to expect a visit, and were indeed so quiet and controlled in their actions and speech that they might have been afraid of bears!

 

They walked down beside classroom after large classroom and Shereen asked the two people in charge, a man and a woman, if all the children could gather somewhere, a hall or in the courtyard. They looked surprised and said it was seldom done except for singing, and Neal smiled. They sang! Couldn’t be all bad!

 

“What songs do they sing?” he queried, remembering that at Steel the locals had used different scales for the music, it sounded totally different! His quick brain started translating and rhyming some round-songs…they certainly wouldn’t have heard them before! He was told they sang many varied songs, the music teacher was very progressive!

 

 _Considering the Keep, that could mean anything! Perhaps he wears_ grey!

With the help of Merritt and Joster and the headmaster and mistress – so Neal thought of them – and Shereen and several slaves, Neal started putting together a rather shaky stage at one end of the courtyard and while the others finished that, Neal went and introduced himself to the music teacher, hoping he was like the inspirational Gareth Malone who had overturned the silly prejudices of boys who thought for some weird reason that singing was sissy!

 

However, this singing teacher didn’t look fourteen (which Gareth sort of had when Neal first saw him), but about fourteen hundred! He had long, flowing silver hair, a long, flowing silver beard – and when he spoke, a lovely silver tenor voice.

         Neal told him what he wanted to try. Round songs weren’t known, and the music teacher, Seramore, became quite excited, especially when Neal explained, rather diffidently, that he knew the songs in a different scale altogether…but after all, Neal thought, Asian countries such a Japan and China used different scales, didn’t they? – and some of the best musicians were now coming out of those countries, playing western music on traditional western instruments.

        

         Seramore invited him to sing the songs, which made Neal feel a little shy. Singing in front of 800 children didn’t bother him, but this man was obviously the Yoda of Camber Music.

 

_Okay, that’s a horrible pun, Neal!_

He sang, ‘Row, row, row your boat’ , which he’d managed to translate to fit and could be done as a two part round, and a version of Frère Jacques, which was four.

 

He had given up on London’s Burning, partly because it seemed a little gruesome and he hadn’t time to think of completely different words!

 

_Kookaburra sits on the old gum tree…no, I’ll work that out later! No idea what trees are called here! Or birds, for that matter, or if any of them ‘laugh’!_

Then there was Izika Zumba, the Zulu war chant…that would work, because no-one really understands the words anyway! Children don’t care! Many nursery rhymes are complete nonsense! He would work that out for the next time he visited the warrior children at Sunder…

 

… _If there is a next time. Perhaps too soon to think of taking this show on the road. Dash. The only good thing…most of the time, I’ve forgotten all about Aramalitha! Good thing I never got to kiss her…._

His heart contracted. It didn’t think it was a good thing at all!

Seramore was delighted! “The children will love something different, and I can use them to encourage all of them to sing because it is almost like a competition!”

 

Neal smiled broadly at the man, finding him very easy to like. “Do you find you can pick up these tunes, Sir?”

 

“Oh, after the cacophony that passes for a tune on Freetch - ! I must admit, youngling, manage that I never quite did!”

 

“But how - ?”

 

“Some of their people were brought here as slaves, poor things! They had eight legs, you see, the Slavers thought they would be good at doing various tasks at once.”

 

Neal’s eyes opened wide.

 

“They were not very good at doing anything at all, and had a very short life-span. It was such a tragedy. They would sing to each other as comfort but, as I say, most humans could not stand the noise. I tried, but I do not think our ears or voices are well suited to their version of music.”

 

Neal sang the simple songs through twice more for the man, and by that time he was quite capable of singing one of the other parts. Neal was very impressed, and said so.

 

“When you have been studying music for as long as I have, and have had the joy of experiencing many types of music, especially since the Slavers started bringing off-world merchandise, learning something this easy is – well, child’s play.”

 

“You do not teach at one of the Schools for Higher Learning?” Neal asked.

 

“I do now and then teach a course or two. But I like the children, Neal.”

 

Merritt arrived, a little dishevelled, to tell them that the stage was as ready as it would ever be.

 

Neal followed respectfully after Seramore, but when they got on stage, the music teacher turned and introduced Neal and left him to speak. Neal explained who he was, that he was visiting various Keeps…and the children just stared. He wondered about those manuals…! He said he thought they might try and different type of song, and he would have the expert help of Seramore, their illustrious music instructor.

 

He sang his version of Row Your Boat, and then he sang the first part and Seramore sang the second, all through twice. The children immediately sat up a little straighter.

 

“Now, come on, let us divide you into two – here, there is an imaginary line between the pretty girl with short hair and the boy sitting to her right. No, not my right, her right…that is right!” the children laughed, and he went on, “Now everyone behind those two move a little to one side or the other, making a narrow aisle down the middle.”

 

Neal, ever the showman, became Master of Ceremonies and had one half sing the song through, and then the other half. Then he said, “Now, this is my side over here, Sir Seramore! We shall sing first and see if we can even hear your half when they sing! Come on, children, watch me and sing nice and loudly!”

        

“And my half, watch _me_ and sing nicely and loudly and clearly! Stand up straight! Breathe from here! Diction! Open your mouths!”

 

Neal grinned at the choir-master and started singing. Of course, some children found it very difficult to keep singing the first part when the second part joined in, and soon there was a lot of giggling.

 

 

_Neal, One; Beige Polar Bears, Nil!_

“Let us sing the parts separately again!”

 

After a few tries, most of the children learnt how to concentrate on their part, and it sounded very good and Neal and Seramore clapped and stamped their feet. The stage rattled.

 

Neal had the girls sing the first part – with him, naturally – and the boys sing with Seramore, and it was a little ragged, because the singers were all muddled together and more were confused! But the second time it was almost perfect!

 

When Neal sang the Sheel equivalent of Frère Jacques through twice, and split the children into four, they were all anxious to try it! Neal started the first group, Seramore the second, Neal danced down (stage shaking ominously) and started the third group and, not to be outdone, Seramore did a more complicated jig and started the fourth group…but by now everyone was laughing, including the head-master and –mistress, Joster, Merritt and Shereen.

 

“Come on, now, you can do this!” Neal exclaimed. “At first, just concentrate on singing your part through, worry not about anyone else!”

 

It took five tries, but at last they sang the whole thing through three times and Neal had them clap for themselves as they were so good!

 

He then did the same little magic tricks, including the gold coin, and used the bread, first putting the flowers inside, and then, when the three little girls holding it took off the top, all the butterflies burst forth into the sunshine and flapped off to freedom with an interesting tale to tell their caterpillar grandchildren.

 

Neal scanned the crowd. Every child – and their teachers – had huge starry eyes and clasped hands, and at just that moment neither Aramalitha nor the deaths had any hold on his heart.

 

 

 

_Final score: Neal’s Sneaky Steelers win by a landslide over the Camber Beige Polar Bears - and take the Series – **comfortably!!** Yay! The crowd goes wild! ‘Nother One Bites the Dust!_

 

 

 

The class teachers got the excited children walking neatly back crocodile-style and everyone was still smiling. The Heads thanked Neal and his men and Seramore walked back with him a little way, talking about the types of music found on Earth. Neal was feeling that unpleasant dreariness as his adrenaline dropped, which was made much worse by being sleep-deprived and what was about to happen with Kitran – or hopefully Lira. But he parted from Seramore with mutual thanks and smiles and then he strode as fast as possible across the Keep, wanting it to be over. Joster and Merritt adjusted their strides easily to keep up.

 

He reached Lord Camber’s study and knocked tentatively. No reply. His heart fell, and he walked away.

 

 

 

End of Chapter 10

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a crocodile: a group of people, usually children, walking in pairs


	11. Going back for a mere candlemark or two.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The results of the Chiri's investigtions ...Neal returns, briefly, to Steel...

 

Neal sat by the window and tried not to worry. _  
_

_Damn! Please, just let this be done and done! I hate the waiting! There’s nothing I can do to get ready, no last preparations, no plans, ropes or lock-picks or anything to check!_

Neal did have some deep misgivings, despite what he had said to Camber. He had buried memories of his father, his mother, his early childhood. He just had this vague feeling that it hadn’t been at all happy. And then there were all the bad memories over the years…time dulled them, new experiences over-laid them. All together and fresh they would be a burden…a heavy burden.

 

_Kate._

There, he’d let himself think it. All the memories of Kate, which, because of that fire-ball burning stench of fuel and plastic and human flesh – _God! -_ were turned into terrible memories, the most delightful into the most heart-rending. He sighed.

_Kate, and Rachel, and Peter –  Adler and James - all the memories of loss, betrayal, disappointment – oh, well.   I’m a survivor. Sometimes reluctantly, but I am. If anyone can do this, I can._

He walked back to his suite and Joster and Merritt, aware of his mood, walked soberly behind him.

 

 

 

It was only about half-an-hour later that a slave knocked on the door to tell him that Lord Camber was ready for him, but it seemed torturously long! Neal swallowed and smiled at his two trusty squires and said, “I should probably go alone, but thank you both. Truly.”

 

“What are you going to do, Master Neal?” Joster asked, determinedly.

 

“Oh, we are just going to try and find out what is causing the deaths and I may be very tired when I return, that is all.”

Merritt nodded and sat down with some brass saddle-fittings to polish, but Joster knew Neal better and Neal wasn’t trying to hide his disquiet completely from them. But Neal shook his head dismissively and Joster bowed slightly, and Neal closed the door behind him.

 

Neal knocked and this time the door was opened by the Lord himself, who waved Neal in urgently and shut the door again. Neal blinked, the room was a little gloomy, and first he saw Kitran and Lira – his feelings lightened, feeling better about this procedure. Lira knew him well and he loved her. He also trusted her to keep all his many, many secrets! Even from his father!

 

The Lord walked round behind his desk and smiled. Kitran and Lira were smiling. “What?” Neal demanded, neglecting protocol, feeling that he was left out of a joke – or maybe was about to be the butt of one!

 

“You Earthlings are interesting humans,” Lord Camber said. “I would not perhaps choose to put you in charge of my Keep were I to die, but very interesting.”

 

“I understand not, Lord. We need to do this…Reading? Do we not?”

 

“No, Neal, as it happens we do not,” Lira almost sang. “The Earthlings are not the source of the deadly energy.”

 

“But how do you know, Lira?” Neal begged.

 

“Because Lira has already Read _me_ , Neal!” Mozzie said, and stepped out from behind Kitran’s robes.

 

“Mozzie! How did you - ? but – why you? You – I - I volunteered and - and you are so - I thought - ”

 

“And, mon frère,” Mozzie detoured briefly into English, and then back to Sheel, “I have said it before and I shall no doubt say it often as the seasons pass unless you change: you are almost as intelligent as I, Neal, at least in some areas, but when your emotions cloud your reasoning you can be a complete dolt!”

 

“Why, thank you, Brother! Nice to see you, too! Explain my dolthood?”

 

“Neal, you know perfectly well I have an eidetic memory. Actually, it seems somewhere between eidetic and hyperthymesic, I have studied both and the papers written by…well, for another time, perhaps!… that seems to be the case…and I have honed my abilities to memorise facts as well. So there is far less chance of trauma for myself than almost any other Earthling in existence, Sometimes-Stupid-Friend! _And_ I have never been captured, never been in prison, never enslaved, never owned by the Faceless FBI and have few terrifying memories, Neal.”

 

Neal blinked. Then he rallied. “But both of those super-memories kick in at some point. No-one has ever been known to consciously remember perfectly to babyhood, though some people – mostly women – have flashes of memory even to the crib. And under hypnosis, of course, most people can access almost any memory, they say.”

 

Mozzie nodded. “My memories are extremely clear after I was about seven.”

 

Neal took a deep breath. “So you have already done this? – how are you?”

 

“Far saner than most of the humans I have ever met, Neal! As usual, as always!”

 

“Well, that is open to debate, Mozzie! What about those early seasons? They might have been very traumatic!”

 

“Mozzie pointed out, Neal,” Lira told him, “when your Lord Steel was uncomfortable with this, that he would give anything to remember those very early months of his life, to see if he could find a clue as to the identity of his mother, to see why she gave him up.”

 

Neal glanced at Lord Camber. Mozzie was a very private person! But Mozzie said, “It is all right, Neal, Lord Camber knows a little. Caerrovon told me we should trust Lord Camber as we trust our Lord, but I would like to sit with you and talk it all over perhaps?”

 

Neal looked deep into Mozzie’s quite lovely eyes, and what he saw reassured him. Mozzie was relaxed, perhaps more relaxed than usual, and the tension left Neal’s body and he almost staggered. Lira put a hand on his shoulder.

 

“Could we…go back home for a candle-mark or so, Lord Camber? You would not think it discourteous?” Neal asked. “I would like to speak to my Lord and my brother and perhaps Lira, if she can spare the time?”

 

“Of course, Neal,” Lira told him.

 

“He is your father, and I understand. Since you are able, go.”

 

“I shall go and tell my men to exercise the horses and leave from my rooms, Lord Camber. Lira and Mozzie can leave from here. Then I shall return to my rooms later and no-one will be any the wiser.”

 

Lord Camber nodded to them and Neal left. With a glance at Mozzie, Lira nodded and the three jumped. The Lord shuddered a little, looking at the empty air where they had been…it seemed very weird to him and he had no desire whatsoever to try it!

 

 

 

Neal landed in the study at Steel. Mozzie and Lira were already there. Steel, seated by the desk, looked up, smiled broadly and rose. Neal glanced around. “Kitran came not with us?”

 

“He wishes to continue with other roads of investigation,” Lira said, and stepped out of the way as Steel pounced on Neal and gave him a hug.

 

“I have missed you!” he said.

 

“And I you, my Lord! But I have not been gone very long...I have been away from you for much longer periods when I was on Earth!”

 

“I think it is worse because you are here, on my planet, and yet not with me!” Steel laughed. “Did you hear of the bravery of your brother?”

 

“I did.”

 

“You were both prepared to do this, and I am proud of you both!”

 

“I explained, Caerrovon, and you see, I was right…I am perfectly fine. Even Lira agrees!” Mozzie told him. “It was not brave in me to insist Lira did this on me.”

 

“And very little in me, my Lord. I am glad I did not have to re-live some of those memories, but to ensure that we were not the carriers of this…death, definitely worth the discomfort.

         “I never thought of Mozzie! And if I had, I would have discounted him because of the acute _and_ chronic paranoia on which he prides himself!  Moz, did it not bother you that Lira now knows all your secrets, every safe-house, every alias?”

 

“Not in the least, Neal,” Mozzie told him, smiling at Lira. “With her abilities, I know she could have taken any of that knowledge when she healed my ears and face and everything when I first broke into this Keep. If she did not, she has proven that she has ethics – and if she did, she has never shared any of that knowledge and therefore I am safe!”

 

Lira smiled gently. “From Chiri, you are always safe. I was honoured that you let me do this, and intrigued by your excessively colourful past, Mozzie. Much of it made me smile. It was also fascinating to see your world, though much of it, through your eyes and experiences, was very damaged.”

 

Mozzie twinkled up at her and waved his fingers. “My past often made me smile while I lived it, Lira. Otherwise there is no point in the living of it. And yes, sadly, very damaged.”

 

"And your time here before breaking into this Keep was ..."

 

"Yes, very lonely and not pleasant, but quite short in the overall scheme of things."

 

“But my son indulged, as I understand it, in lawless activities, Lira,” Steel pretended to look shocked. “I would think you would be horrified.”

 

“Many of them, Caerrovon! But I do not read merely actions, but intent and emotions, thoughts and impulses. In these two you have chosen well.”

 

“How would you know of me, Lira?” Neal queried.

 

“Oh, you figure often in Mozzie’s thoughts and dreams, Neal, as well as in many of the actions I witnessed. You probably do not know how much.”

 

“We have been as brothers a large proportion of our lives.” Mozzie was thoughtful.

 

“I shall leave you together for a while,” Lira said to the three Steels. “I wish to check on that little boy and then the mare, Caerrovon.”

 

He nodded and she drifted out of the door. Shiral and Whim came in with trays with snacks and tea and wine, and they all exchanged quick greetings before the girls left. 

              Mozzie opened the wine, Neal checked to see if the tea had drawn and poured some for his Lord. Steel drew them to the chairs and they sat close, in a little triangle.

 

“I cannot stay long, my Lord, much as I would like to,” Neal told him. “I do not want to be missed, and I think that Merritt and Joster could make a great deal of mess if they thought I was lost at Camber!”

 

Steel laughed. “I agree with your assessment! You are enjoying your tour, Neal?”

 

“I am learning how very blessed we were to be bought by you, to be brought to this Slave Market!”

 

“You do not like my friend Lord Camber’s Keep?”

 

“You have seen it, my Lord. It is beige! Everything is beige! It is as though they got a cheap job-lot of beige paint, cloth, furniture… everything!”

 

Steel laughed. “You have no idea how comforting it is to get orders for fabric from Camber! There is no argument about the colour, matching swatches or trying to get a silk to be exactly the same shade as a Laffaysham lady’s gems…they are almost always happy with any colour so long as it is beige, or cream, or ecru.”

 

Mozzie blinked. “Is that not a little…”

 

“Mozzie, it is horrible! I have never had the opportunity to paint on walls except in my cell…but I should volunteer to do murals on every Camber wall! They have sculptures of grain plants, too!”

 

“Yes, they do have the largest area of arable land on the planet, very good technologies - ”

 

“Now _you_ need not start! The Lord’s daughter, Shereen, recited a whole speech on their excellence!”

 

“So other than the lack of colour, Neal, how are you enjoying Camber – and Sunder?” Steel asked, pouring each of his sons a glass of wine.

 

“Very different in many ways, my Lord. I am very glad I went. And, my dear Lord, I am very glad I am going to be coming home!”

 

“You could just stay. Lira could tell Merritt and Joster to pack up your things and ride home.”

 

“Tempt me not, my Lord! No, I think it is a good thing and I also do not want Betchem to feel that I shied away from a visit after spending time at Laffaysham, Sunder and Camber, now that we know I am not a carrier of the plague!

“That scared me terribly. We would have had to leave you and never return, my Lord!”

 

“I realised that, Neal. That is why I am a little giddy, having found that you are able to remain as my sons.”

 

Mozzie just looked smug.

 

“That expression, despite the comfort of familiarity, Moz, is not your best look!” Neal remarked.

 

Mozzie looked more smug still, though Neal wouldn’t have thought it possible! Neal gave up and took up another line of thought, “Moz, for your bravery, and I believe it was brave for someone as …careful… as you – did you receive any further information?”

 

Mozzie jettisoned the smugness and leaned forward. “Neal, a great deal of it _was_ fun! All my life, I mean…a few problems and sadness, mostly because you were so…restricted….”

 

         “You are allowed to say ‘stupid’, Moz, I was being. We could have run a hundred times!”

 

         “I, for one, am grateful that you did not,” Steel said, quietly, and Neal glanced at him with a smile.

 

         “True…sorry, Mozzie, that I made your life difficult, but we found our Lord, after all!”

 

“True. Everything has come right for us. Still sorry about those seasons lost, Neal!

..........“What I learned about my childhood: Yes, I was horribly bullied for a while, until Mr Jeffreys helped me find my centre, encouraged me to read and learn. He was such a lovely man!

..........“I now remember him finding me on the step. I remember my mother crying, both very bitterly when they dropped me off at the home and now and then during her pregnancy. I heard her say that she would do anything to keep me. She used to play classical music on the radio and tell me about it. Mozart, Grieg, Liszt, Beethoven, Bach, all the really great composers. Some of the stories were true, some she made up to fit the music. Oh, I remember so much!

...........“There was a man who called her Daisy – and I know, Daisy is a pet name for many names, including Margaret because of the French Marguerite - and I am not sure who he was, for she called him Dear or Dearheart. He may have been my father, or perhaps _her_ father They both spoke softly, almost as if afraid, but they had nice voices. Well spoken. Not from the South, I think…North American, but not a strong accent. Helps little, unfortunately!

         “There was the sound of a train, not very close, the wail of it, you know, in the night when it was quiet, and they would talk about how they would get on the train and go to California where it was warm, or Oregon where the trees were tall, or the man would have brought home travel brochures and they would tell each other how they would go somewhere and board a plane for London, or Paris, or Vienna or Rome. How they would show me the fountains, the cathedrals and museums and Big Ben and the Northern Lights, all their youthful hopes…Neal, I have seen those things! Is it not amazing? I fulfilled my parents’ dreams for me.”

        

Neal leaned over close, trying to lend support. Now he was almost envious of Mozzie…but perhaps the story wouldn’t have been so poignant or sweet for him…

 

         Mozzie smiled at him, knowing his thoughts from long association, and went on, “She was very poor and her family refused to help them…or her, I suppose because she became pregnant out of wedlock? ..or perhaps married someone of whom they did not approve. They had nowhere to stay for long, living on very little. They priced things like diapers and blankets, they knew they would struggle even with the basics for a baby, let alone good food.

“And this man went around and met all the people who ran homes, and came back and told her about them and they settled on Mr. Jeffreys’ as the only one ‘good enough for our baby’. So when I was born they wrapped my up in the best things they had and left me there.”

 

“Oh, Mozzie, that is so sad – but so sweet, too – they must have loved you very much!” Neal said. “He might have just called her Daisy because it is the flower of innocence and purity. Telling her she was a good person even if her family thought not so? And Margaret originally comes from the Greek for pearls, so ‘pearl-of-great-price’?”

 

“I heard her heart, Caerrovon, Neal! I lay there, growing, often drowsing or sleeping and listened to the heartbeat of my mother. I will remember that always. I heard it and I know she loved me.”

 

         Neal felt his eyes prickle.

 

         Mozzie went on, “It bothered me, you know. I remember feeling disturbed and threatened because these two people who wanted me, loved me, who were supposed to care for me and were trying to keep me, could not. They were helpless in the face of something larger than I could understand. I could often hear the sadness, the desperation, the anger in their voices, so I was afraid and confused. And maybe a little angry on their behalf.”

 

“No wonder you feel some paranoia, Mozzie, with that beginning,” Neal said, thoughtfully. “It is perfectly natural.”

 

“Yes.” Mozzie sat and stared at nothing for a moment, then went on, “However, I think, with my mental abilities and my capability of subduing my emotions, I would have ceased to feel that way if the world had been a caring, safe, comprehensible environment.”

 

Neal nodded, soberly, but then commented, “It is much better there, now, Moz.”

 

“Much better! Though I wonder if there is enough support for young mothers, other than families.”

 

Neal leaned over and took his hand. “We cannot change what happened to you, Mozzie, and your little mother, but we can take our money and set up places for those mothers now. We have the resources and can always get more!”

 

Mozzie looked up and his eyes were suspiciously bright for someone who is always capable of subduing his emotions. “Thank you, Neal. That is a splendid idea! I have already been helping Mr Jeffreys, of course, but he is only one man in one city. And becoming elderly.”

 

“We can think about how to go about it, and once this mystery has been settled we will get it started,” Neal promised.

 

“Yes,” Mozzie said, reclaiming his hand. “That is the down-side – the negative side. We have found that it has nothing to do with the Earthlings – thank God! - but it does not lead us any closer to finding out what it **_is.”_**

****

“Do not feel despondent, my sons – one cannot eat a horse at one sitting.”

 

“For a Steel Keeper, that is a completely horrible saying!” Neal exclaimed.

 

“Nonetheless true!” his Lord grinned at him. Then, turning to his other son, “Thank you for sharing all of that with me, Mozzie.”

 

“I feel …different. I do. I can never feel like the abandoned, homeless little baby again. My mother and perhaps my father, loved me and just could not keep me. I was not a mistake, an unwanted pregnancy, though the situation or finances would not allow them to keep me.

         “And – you both know how Lira is. She was very concerned that this procedure would destroy any human such as Earthlings. Through this whole experience, she was there, cradling me, keeping me safe and making me _know_ I was safe. She was listening to my mother’s heartbeat with me. I – I know it sounds insane, but I feel as though I now have a father - you, Caerrovon - and a mother or her substitute, in Lira. She knows how my mother felt, her spirit. She is my link to my mother. She was there with me and I was aware of her and her love.

“And I was aware of her joy when we pulled off the…well,” Mozzie glanced at Steel, “… many of our Greatest Hits, Neal!”

 

Steel smiled. “It is of no consequence to me if you stole paintings or money or planets!…you stole from my …um…loot? wagon, and I said nothing mean to you!”

 

“I thought you had told my Lord all our escapades when you looked through the FBI’s evidence boxes, Moz!”

 

“No. Very few. The boxes contain a vast amount of evidence of things they _thought_ you had done. Most had nothing to do with you, as you saw. The things we did, and most of the things you did, were not mentioned at all!”

 

Neal chuckled. “We were a good team, Mozzie!”

 

“We always will be, Neal!”

 

The three sat close enough for their knees to be touching, drinking their wine or tea, and then Neal sighed. “I should be getting back.”

 

The other two looked at him. Lord Steel said, “I miss you, Neal. Do not remain away too long.”

 

“I miss you, too,” Mozzie said, and at that Neal’s eyes opened very wide. “Yes, yes, I have probably never told you that before in all our seasons, but I do. I always have.”

 

“You could have come to visit me in prison, you know!”

 

“No. I like not zoos.”

 

“The zoo people take a great deal of care of their charges and breed them to re-introduce their offspring into the wild, and now provide the best possible conditions for them.”

 

“That is true. They are much better than they used to be, zoos. I see the place for them. Prisons, not so much.”

 

“Sometimes we put things in a cage so that people might get to look at the beautiful, wild and exotic which otherwise they would never see!” Neal grinned.

 

“I see the brief attack of humility has worn off!” Mozzie noted.

 

Steel was silent.

 

“What, my Lord?” Neal asked.

 

“I just wondered how it would be if they allowed the prisoners to reproduce so that they could release their offspring into the wild!”

 

Mozzie and Neal laughed. “With an extensive education from all those incarcerated there together!” Neal nodded.

“Dash! I really should go!”

 

He stood and the others did, too.

 

“Lord Camber did tell me that when you visited when you were a child you were treated as _his_ child at Camber, and similarly by the other Lords at the other Keeps, my Lord. You must tell me more when I am back home, hmm?”

 

Lord Steel laughed. “ _You_ are a _horrible_ child, Neal!”

 

“I think Lord Camber may be the first Lord-Keeper to realise that I am not, in fact, a child! I am not sure…but he may be!”

 

“Good-bye, Neal. We will see you in a few days, a tenday perhaps?” Steel said, hugging him again.

 

“Depends how much trouble I can get into at Betchem!”

 

Steel looked at the ceiling – a habit he’d picked up from Peter. “Is that the reason for this little escapade? To see how much trouble you can get into?”

 

“We-ell, into and out of, my Lord! That is the trick!”

 

“Into and out of unscathed?”

 

Neal ducked his head, hiding a grin, and Steel went on, “Betchem is a beautiful Keep. My favourite, other than my own.”

 

“Not elegant Laffaysham, that prides itself on its beauty…it is even called Laffay the beautiful?”

 

Steel made a moue. “Little too pretty for me! Too…conscious of her prettiness! Tell no-one there I said so, however.

         “But we shall see how you manage at Betchem, Neal.”

        

“Why? Is there anything I should know, my Lord?”

 

“Oh, no – and spoil the surprise?”

 

“He is teasing you, Neal! He spent more time at Betchem than here, I believe,” Mozzie interrupted them.

 

“I may have done, Moz!” Steel said, earnestly. “Betchem was a good meeting place between Camber and here. Lord and Lady Betchem are the oldest Lord-Keepers and therefore have an enormous family. Betchem had the added advantage of having a Lord less strict than my father.”

 

“But - ?” Neal prodded, amused.

 

“But he has seen every scam and mischief in the book and when _I_ was young seemed weary enough of all of them. He is a very kind and generous man – but not overladen with patience. Be warned.”

 

“I shall be as good as I know how to be, my Lord!” Neal told him.

 

“Oh, dear!” Steel replied.

 

 

 

 

 

End of Chapter 11

 

 

Come on...comments please! This is worth it! They're good together!

 

 

 


	12. Not responsible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal is MUCH happier, and is still investigating Camber and finds a new friend.

 

 

 

 

 

Neal bounced back into his suite at Camber, light-hearted after finding out they were not responsible for the deaths and after having that lovely, fun, silly talk with Mozzie and his father. He picked up his slave-collar, his love-gift to target when he jumped back, twisting it gently between his fingers. At least his Lord was in no more danger than anyone else on the planet!

 

He made his way down to Lord Camber’s study to tell him he was back, but the Lord wasn’t there. He was just walking down the corridor back to his room when he heard the Lord’s voice and looked back, thinking it was well-timed.

 

“Neal – I am glad you have returned. It is nearly time for the second meal, but I have some news. Come into my study?” As he was talking, his man unlocked the study door and the Lord, and then Neal went in, and the Lord gestured for him to close the door, leaving his man guarding it.

         “Neal, our Tassin man, Gestil, got word while you were gone: a couple of slaves, working as a pair as suggested, were found dead in the vegetable garden at Sunder. There is a growing sense of alarm. I have asked Kitran to speak at the meal, bring everyone the latest information.”

 

The Lord sat, but Neal stood in front of the desk and sighed. “I was feeling so happy, Lord Camber, but we have only eliminated one possibility. And we are not very sure where to look next! Have you, or any of your people, any thoughts?”

 

“Most of us are still stunned that the Chiri, upon whom we have come to rely in any serious health problem, have no idea.”

 

“And my people, who have survived without the Chiri but who rely on some natural healing and used a great deal of technology, we cannot think what it could be, either, unless the Chiri’s powers are flawed in this area!”

 

“Come, we should make our way to the diningroom. There is a breeze today, and the grain is shedding pollen.”

 

The meal was a much more solemn occasion. Lord Camber told the gathering about the new deaths, and told them the various theories that had already been discounted, and asked Kitran to explain.

 

Kitran did, never mentioning the Earthlings as having been suspected carriers in particular, but saying that all the off-world species so far tested had proven clear and that he thanked the individuals who had so bravely volunteered to prove their species free of the contagion, as it was a horrible procedure.

 

         “Unfortunately, Cambermen, we have no way of knowing yet what is causing these sudden deaths, but we are working at it constantly.” He took his seat and there was a good deal of muffled conversation.

 

Neal was seated between Lady Camber and Kitran, which the Lord felt would prove to everyone that at least _he_ was sure of the Earthlings’ innocuousness.

 

“So your brother is well?” Kitran asked, and when Neal nodded, smiled and said, “The Earthlings are small in stature and possess few of the gifts we know about and prize. Yet they continue to surprise our species! Lira spoke up for him when he immediately agreed to undergo this Read, and stood against your Lord of Steel when it seemed he would become powerfully angry.”

 

“I have seen him angry,” Neal murmured. “But only for a brief flash…”

 

“Yes, he has the Steel gift of attachment as well as his Laffay empathy. You Earthlings do not have such things?”

 

“There are stories, even research from before the wars…it seems that many of our people have weak telepathy, intuition, some even show weak ability to move objects without touching them. These have been researched under rigorous scientific protocols, and most people, it is thought, can develop such things…telepathy between identical twins is quite common, but very few have a control of their gifts, they are unreliable and, as I say, usually weak.

“My brother Mozzie says it is because of our dependence on technologies, machines, instrumentation, electronics.” Neal was using the Earth words for things that had no Sheel equivalent, he was sure Kitran would pick the meanings from his mind, and the man nodded.

“It is possible, Neal. I am glad, for your sake, and Lord Steel’s and Lira’s that you are not involved.”

 

“Thank you, Kitran,” Neal smiled up at the beautiful, almost inhuman-looking man. “Thank you for all your help.”

 

 

After they had eaten, Neal and Lord Camber found themselves standing together, watching the children playing in the field.

“Our discussion – or your threats to _me_ , the Lord of this Keep! – were interrupted, Neal,” Lord Camber said, softly.

 

Neal turned with a broad smile. “I did apologise, Lord Camber! I understood and I am just glad it has all been laid to rest!

“I do want to know if there is any way our Keeps can be of even more value to each other. My brother is…different. He is very intelligent and remembers many things. Do your people have any problems that need solving, for example? It is just possible he could bring something to the table?”

 

The Lord thought and said, “Our biggest problem is keeping men battle-ready. We try not to ask too much of anyone, they get time off and time to play. Our music teacher has started a number of little…bands?” Neal nodded. “But when we work – spring, and especially autumn – the work in the fields is hard and long hours. In those seasons we use everyone who can work in the fields, and it seems unreasonable to ask them to train hard at their weapon skills.

         “Therefore we have a very large Keep, in terms of actual man-power, but I fear we would be an easy target.”

 

Neal turned and looked up at him, a little surprised. “Thank you. I am surprised – especially after our discussion – that you would tell me this.”

 

“I doubt Steel Keep would attack us, spring or winter or summer – and you know they take soldiers from all the Keeps to train them. I saw your two men, Joster and Merritt out in the field with some of our young men: pounding them, I am afraid! They showed up our boys’ lack of speed and agility! But it may encourage them to put in more work during this season, which is a little quieter.”

 

Neal nodded. “I will give it some thought. Nothing else, Lord Camber?”

 

“No, nothing comes to mind.”

 

“Could Shereen – or someone, it can be a slave, but someone you trust – correspond with me now and then, see how we can improve our trade and interdependence?”

 

“Lord Camber smiled down at him. “I will ask her to do so. Perhaps every fifty-day, when I go through the records and talk things over with my brothers and stewards. Then I can ask them for their thoughts and have her write to you if anything should occur to us.”

 

“Good, Lord – and is there someone who can tell me about your crops, your field? I have never seen anything like it, and find it fascinating! Oh – and the cheeses? I would truly like to taste your variety of cheeses!”

 

“I think every cheese you have at Steel comes from our store – other than the one blue cheese that Ophera makes! - we have been trying to get the recipe from her for as long as I remember! But we certainly send not our entire range to Steel except for certain celebrations. So yes, I will send a slave to you, and you may go and talk to Hereesh, my one steward who is in the library, and then go and taste the cheeses!

         “You plan to leave tomorrow?”

 

“Yes, after breakfast, Lord. I must thank you so much for your hospitality!”

 

“And my forbearance!”

 

Neal shared grins with him. “That also, my Lord!”

 

“I shall see you at breakfast, then, Neal,” the Lord said. “I have things to which I must attend!” He ruffled Neal’s curls affectionately and strode off.

 

Neal sighed, combing his fingers through his hair. So much for being thought a grown-up!

 

 

 

Susan came up and she and Neal sat on a wall and discussed England for a while, as he had promised, speaking English. She missed many of the lovely things: the old architecture, the soft rains, the hedgerows and fields, the bobbies, the old thatched cottages surrounded by herbaceous borders, the food, and of course, the people.

         “ Of course, there are horrible flats, row housing in some areas is awful…but I miss the ideal, I suppose. And I miss the culture. I never thought I would say this, Neal – but each Hamlet, each village, with a church at the centre. Everyone of us growing up singing the same hymns, knowing the same Bible verses. It didn’t seem like a big part of life – it wasn’t – but it served as a foundation. You’ve seen royal weddings and funerals and things – we all know those basics. It isn’t a religion, even…well it is, of course, but it doesn’t feel like that! It’s like our _language! Our flavour!_ ”

 

Neal pulled his feet up on the wall and hugged his knees. “I miss a lot of things from Earth.”

 

“Fish and chips! I wake up sometimes and I swear I can smell fish and chips! I get up and go and look – and I’m _starving_ for it! Wrapped in newspaper.”

 

“And mushy peas?”

 

“Oh, definitely mushy peas! And the puddings! They make sweet things here, but nothing like home.”

 

“What was your favourite?”

 

“Christmas pud! Traditional family recipe – you’ll never find anyone who admits theirs came out of a book! Not in England, anyway! With the silver charms in, that my mum and grandmum had kept for generations, all a little battered because people find them with their teeth in the pudding – you know, a thimble means you’re going to be a spinster, and a ring means you’re going to marry, a little bag-purse means you’re going to be rich…um, what else is there – oh, and the money! They stopped making silver money, of course, and it goes black and they told us we would all die if we put the little silver tickeys in the pud, but our family didn’t care…but we always had to give them back to Mum in exchange for…well, it went up with inflation! First it was a ten p, then twenty-five p - ”

         They laughed together, and she went on, “And the smallest child always got at least one coin, usually two, and one of – oh, yes, the horseshoes, for luck, you had to make a wish! The smallest child always got that, too - the wheel was rigged!”

 

“What are tickeys?”

 

“Oh, we called them that because our cousins came back from Northern Rhodesia every year for Christmas and _they_ called them that…and brought them! They were thruppeny pieces – worth three pennies - and silver, but I think they had a bit of nickel or perhaps even mercury in them! We didn’t care. Felt the fun was definitely worth the risk! At first we could keep them, but of course the tickeys became more and more rare.

“I think it comes from a Malay word…there were Malay people in South Africa, brought some great food additions! Our cousins shared with us…very exotic!”

 

“I never celebrated Christmas in England.”

 

“You missed something! If we ever get back from…well, I don’t suppose anyone’s got the little silver tickeys anymore! Maybe the Slave-raiders went off with them!” She sighed.

 

“Got to keep remembering, though. Keep your family alive in your heart.”

 

She smiled at him, a little misty-eyed. “Who did you lose?”

 

“Not that many people. I didn’t have any family other than those who are here. Well – no-one that mattered.”

 

“They were all captured and brought with you?”

 

“Yes, and, with a bit of luck and conniving, we all ended up with Lord Steel. Some were sent back, though, by the Chiri. _They_ had family, jobs, stuff to go back for.”

 

She turned her head on one side and said, “You sound as though the whole thing was a _good_ thing.”

 

“Well, not the millions of deaths, of course not! Or the destruction. But I have a home here, now, in a way I never did on Earth.”

 

Susan rubbed her hands together restlessly and looked at the sky.

         “Wish I felt that way. They’re kind, good people, but I don’t have _friends._ Can’t imagine going down to the pub with any of the Cambermen. They don’t seem to have a sense of humour, much.”

 

“And the Brit. humour is famous!”

 

“Yeah – Monty Python, the Goons, Red Dwarf – what’s his name? That did,” she sang:           

“ ‘and he drove the fastest milk-cart in the west!’ ”

 

Neal laughed. “I dunno who sang it! I can remember some of the words…” He did not a bad West Country accent, and Susan’s eyes lit up:

        “‘Now Ernie loved a widow, a lady known as Sue,

“ ‘She lived all alone in Liddley Lane at number 22.

“ ‘They said she was too good for him, she was haughty, proud and chic,

“ ‘But Ernie got his cocoa there three times every week.’ 

“ ‘They called him Ernie,’” 

       (Sue put in, “’Ernieeeeeeeeeee!’”) 

“’And he drove the fastest milk cart in the west!

          “’She said she'd like to bathe in milk, he said, "All right, sweetheart," ‘

“ ‘And when he'd finished work one night he loaded up his cart.

“ ‘He said, "D'you want it pasturize? 'Cause pasturize is best,”

“ ‘She says, "Ernie, I'll be happy if it comes up to my chest." ‘”

Both sang the last line with gusto and burst into gales of laughter.

At last Sue sighed and said, “Oh, I enjoyed that! That’s the kind of thing I mean! No-one here would understand that!”

 

“Lots of folks back home wouldn’t, either!” Neal chuckled. “I didn’t know I knew as many words to that!”

 

“Benny Hill…that’s who sang it! He was a milk man when he started working!”

 

“Interesting. Wonder if he went and had _his_ ‘cocoa’ at some widow’s place and had a rivalry with a baker…it’s a sad story, though, isn’t it? Funny, and sad?”

 

“Yes…that’s us Brits…look at the things we celebrate – Dunkirk, for heaven’s sake!...sorry, did celebrate. It was a miracle, but really a retreat, too! Probably now we celebrate the stupid aliens coming, back home.”

 

Neal had to bite his tongue, he so wanted to tell her how the Earthlings had fought the aliens! _I have to come back and tell her someday._

“Let’s go and try some of your famous cheeses – oh, I want to speak to the steward…? Hereesh?”

 

“In the library. I’ll take you…you don’t mind me tagging along, do you?”

 

“Not at all! I love some of the locals, but – well, you’re from home!”

Neal wondered if he was lying – _gets bad when you can’t tell, yourself! -_ he really felt as though _here_ was home, or at least Steel Keep! But Susan smiled happily, and that was the main thing!

 

Camber Library was enormous, neat and orderly. It looked as though no-one ever took the books out except to meticulously dust! Hereesh was very thin, in contrast to most Cambermen, who tended to be – well, rounded – and, like most librarians, was only too pleased to enlighten Neal concerning the strange, flat fields and the crops.

 

He went to a beautiful set of architects’ drawers, which made Neal’s mouth water – they were so useful for storing paper and sketches and even some finished works…and plans and blueprints for buildings with interesting contents…Neal sighed. He did miss the good times with Mozzie and Alex… _hadn’t thought of Alex..._ _Wonder what happened to Alex. Hope she survived and is happy. Funny how we just ignore the thought of people we haven’t seen since the wars, hoping they’re okay, not wanting to know for sure in case… and she never really trusted me after Peter stole that tile and read her policerecord – I’m picking up Susan’s English – rap-sheet! Stupid **idiot!** Me **and** Peter! _

“The fields you see, out there,” Hereesh interrupted his thoughts, indicating out of the window, “are much as the original Camber found them. They tried changing the mix of plants, but nothing did as well as that one. What they did do was flatten the land, so that it was equally watered, no damper or drier sections.

         “Now, this is a cross section of the fields. The soil is deep, but not extremely deep. This here,” he indicated a rock formation beneath the fields, “is a dome of impenetrable rock. It is centred, more or less, beneath the fields. The soil was washed here by various floods long ago, and is good, and well-drained…in fact, it would drain too well but for that structure beneath.”

 

“I see,” Neal said, tracing the lines with a careful finger. “So you have good rains?”

 

“No, we have very few rains, Sir Neal. We are like Sunder, but we do not get their fog during summer. But both of our Keeps experience very heavy snows, for us they fall heavily on the mountains, but we have a good man-height sometimes, on the fields.

         “When spring comes, it usually comes with rapidly rising temperatures down here and the snows melt and start the various plants sprouting, deep underground where they are protected from the cold. Then the water drains away. There is a period when the ground here dries out and everyone holds their breath…but the plants have large storage organs and keep inching towards the surface.

         “Then the snow melt from the ice-rivers in the high mountains starts to fill the areas around the edges of the fields.”

         He brought out a map of the whole of Camber and Neal’s eyes widened…it was an enormous area of land, in total, and the city was more vast than he had thought. Hereesh indicated the areas first filled with ice-melt.

         “The deep roots start drawing water and those plants green first, and as the basin, a kind of ring formation, fills, the plants grow progressively inwards, till the very top of the underground dome is watered. Then the weather cools and slowly the water is used and probably drains to some extent, and the grains ripen.”

 

Neal stared at him. “So you have not to irrigate at all?”

 

“No. Nor add much except manure to add – um – plant fibre? – to the ground, which we do when we have harvested the grain for us and the top-growth for the animals.”

 

“So the soil is very rich…but you have been growing this way for an extended time! Where do the extra nutrients come from? You can not just take from the land and not give back, it becomes depleted.”

 

“The manure helps with that, but for a while we knew not the answer to your question, Sir Neal, until we sent students to the mountains and did tests on the waters, and on those underground…the glaciers that feed our underground water contain minerals - ”

 

“ – from the ground-up rocks!” Neal exclaimed. “The heavy glaciers grind the rocks beneath them and that gets washed down as they melt! We call it glacial milk, back home, and people who drink it, or use it for their crops remain very healthy! How fascinating! You did nothing, the earth – land, sorry - created a system that works perfectly!”

 

“Yes. And the mixture of grains we harvest seems healthy and useful, and we grind it to different degrees of fineness for different things, and add some other ingredients for sweetness or a nut-like flavour, that sort of thing. Most of those we have to import, though we have large numbers of homes for the honey-producing insects.”

 

“They are not bees, as we know them, Neal,” Susan said, at his elbow. “They are much bigger, but do not sting, though I believe they can bite if much-provoked. But the honey is not stored in large combs, it is harder to collect, as they live in small colonies made of thick mud, not in the thousands, like honey-bees.”

 

“Thank you so much for the information! I would have been wondering how it worked! The man who told me had only a rudimentary knowledge. But I could see no way of getting water to the plants, or many cart-tracks, nothing!”

 

“You are welcome, Sir Neal!” Heseesh nodded, smiling, putting the maps and plans away. “Anything with which I can help you, do not hesitate to ask!”

 

“Now,” Neal said to Susan as they left the library, “show me the cheeses! Should we take a few bottles of wine?”

 

“They always have some there, Neal! For sudden visitors, not for everyone, all the time!”

 

“If they did, my brother would leave Steel and join your dairy-folk making cheese!”

 

Sue and Neal went to the dairy…well, it was actually _under_ the Castle. The cows were milked above and the milk was collected for the town and Keep use, but of course, in the hot weather it could not be moved far.

         There was a married couple in charge of the dairy, and the woman, Phrynee, took charge of them.

         “We do take milk to closer Keeps during the cooler parts of spring and autumn, and even in the clear weather in winter, in containers wrapped in woollen coatings so it freezes not. But it is always easy to take cultured milk products, especially cheeses! Less water content, especially these, the harder cheeses, and the cultures keep them from going off so they last longer. That is why we are so dedicated to our cheese section!

         “The milk comes in for the different processes and we do everything underground, under quite a large part of the Castle.”

 

“I see that keeps it cooler in summer and warmer in the frigid winter,” Neal agreed, “but what about the damp? What about the water that feeds the grains?”

 

Phyrnee beamed upon him as on a bright student. “That water feeds the fields. The buildings are built away from that underground pan, where the water drains very well in all seasons. It is like that in all our dairy area.

“The cheeses are all different, of course. Different cultures to make different cheeses, and they take different amounts of time. When the hard cheeses are made, they are all stored in little stalls made in the back wall and inspected and treated regularly to keep them from drying out, checking for spoilage, which we have seldom…well, never. We are very careful. These are works of art!”

 

Neal chuckled a little. “I understand. I paint…and there are many people who would much rather have good food, good wine, a good place to sleep than a beautiful piece of art!”

 

“I meant no offence, Sir Neal!”

 

“Oh, none taken! I am of the school of thought that one should enjoy the good food, wine and nice surroundings while _looking_ at a good piece of art! Why settle for half of a good life?”

 

Phrynee smiled at him. Then she took them over and slaves brought little tasters of the cheeses and they sipped three different wines, one from Betchem, one from Laffaysham and one from Steel while they enjoyed the coolness of the dairy.

 

They left and Susan said to Neal, “You are an interesting person! I don’t think I ever met someone like you on Earth!”

 

“Probably not, Susan! Probably didn’t mix in the right – or wrong -circles! And I wasn’t in England often, hardly even in the U.K. much. More on the Continent and mostly around the U.S.A. and here and there…”

 

“A world traveller! Doesn’t it feel odd, having people call you ‘Sir Neal’?”

 

“Very odd! I keep thinking of the medieval knights, with lances and helmets!”

 

“Camelot!”

 

“I wonder why Camelot? Think they originally rode camels?”

 

“You’re joking!”

 

“Yeah…no-one seems to know why it was called that! Lots of theories! What did you do, on Earth? And hobbies?”

 

“Oh, I rode horses, so I get to do that here a little. Different, but not that different! I played the piano, but I didn’t practise much! And just hung out with my friends, you know? I was kind of a good girl, didn’t drug, didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, didn’t party. I loved my folks…very old-fashioned!

         “And I was still ‘finding myself’ I think they used to say in my grandmother’s time! I was a waitress, after school, then did some design work …and then the world exploded.”

 

“Wonder what might have been for you...you were just getting started.”

 

“In a way I do feel safer here, Neal. Lots of troubles over the European Union, job losses, drugs and stuff…if I was like you and had my friends here, and had made more, I’d probably be as happy here as back there, since my family is gone…but the problem is I keep remembering the best of how it was, not actually how it was!”

 

“We’re funny that way!”

 

“I should get back. I asked for time off and got it – can’t see that happening back home unless someone died! Not just to go and enjoy someone’s company and eat cheese! Thank you so much, Neal, it’s been splendid!”

 

“I’ve enjoyed it…enjoy your accent and your company. When I come back, you’ll have to take more time off and we can go for a ride through the green sea!”

 

“We’ll do that! Bye!”

 

“Bye, Susan.”

 

 

 

End of Chapter 13

Nice, happy chapter, for those who were horrifed by 'Call me Danny'! Stlll don't mind coments, though!

 


	13. Kinsman's Embrace

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal visits the only Keep of the Alliance Keeps he has not yet seen at all.

 

 

 

Neal left the beige Keep, waving back to the Lord and Lady and many of the Cambermen who came to see him off. He had come to like the place more than he expected when he first saw the décor!

 

“So, now, Betchem! You have been there, Joster…what should I know? I do want not another surprise like those beige walls!”

 

“Well, you know Betchem is the wood capital, as Camber is the grain and dairy capital, Master Neal,” Joster said, jogging alongside comfortably on his long-legged mare. Merritt was driving the wagon. “So the Keep has much more wood inside. I think you will like it…it is nothing like Camber!”

 

“So bright colours?”

 

“No, browns, mostly, but more…I can think not how to tell you, Master.” He waved his hands in sweeping motions which Neal couldn’t interpret. Sometimes the alienness was more of a barrier than at others. “It is not so all-the-same!”

 

“Oh! Well, that has to be an improvement!”

 

“Your riding has improved, too, Master,” Joster observed.

 

“Seriously, Joster, do I look like ‘Master Anything’ to you? While we are alone, could you not _try_ and call me Neal?”

 

“Well, you are not just Neal, Master!”

 

“Try this – when we were helping Caleb and Elijah with their acrobatics, when you found me sneaking down the corridor when I was first bought by Lord Steel – you called me Neal.”

 

Joster gave him a wry half-smile. “I did. But then - ”

 

“But then you can do it now!”

 

“If I make a mistake in public - ”

 

“You know me, right? Going to have them drag you off in chains I am not, Joster!”

 

“Oh, that I know! But if I treat you not with respect it means your Lord has not provided a good servant for you and it reflects badly not only on you, but on him, too.”

 

“Oh. Gosh.”

 

“Master?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

“You did realise all this protocol came with the job, did you not, Master Neal?”

 

“Joster, I just grabbed at my chance to have a father I could love and trust. No, the heir thing connected not, still has not.”

 

“You will have to get used to it.”

 

“Hmmm…until the Lord has his own children.”

 

“Yes, a few of them. Preferably boys.”

 

“Girls cannot inherit?”

 

“They can, but it is better to have a man if there is a battle-situation. We are just bigger and stronger.”

 

“That is patently not true in my case. I have to fight even for the recognition of an adult! And you knew…Diana? She could take all three of us on in a fight – perhaps not swords, but hand-to-hand – and she would be the one to leave the field. Well, to leave the field unaided, anyway!”

 

“I will not say that some woman could not handle the rôle, but it is also psychological, and a man is usually thought a more natural leader.”

 

Neal rode in silence. “I think you may be right. Not that women can not be great _leaders_ , but they lead differently. I think they are more complex and perhaps in a battle situation, people might prefer to follow a battle-ready warrior. We have tried it seldom on Earth, though there have been a few very successful battle-queens through our histories, great strategists. And women leaders are still few, on Earth. I cannot extol their virtues as we have not tried them often! But if the leader has to take part in the battle, things may be different.”

 

“They do not usually, though our Lord would,” Joster nodded with simple pride. “But I think it is better if they look as though they could!”

 

Neal laughed. “Most of our leaders on Earth – leaders of countries, rather like your Keeps but bigger and less cohesive, usually - they would be no use at all in a physical fight! Mozzie always says that we should stick them in a room and let them fight, not risk our strong young men and women! The leaders always start a fight, let them have to win the fight!

“And our leaders are often not as autonomous as your Lord-Keepers…a female Keeper would be interesting!”

 

Joster smiled. “Our Lord is seldom war-like, but he would win any fight he started! And…Neal…you cannot insist on us calling you that when you call your _father_ ‘my Lord’!”

 

Neal groaned.

 

 

 

They came over a ridge and saw Betchem bathed in the mid-day sun, spread out upon the next and higher ridge.

 

Neal gasped.

 

Camber Keep was large, but was nestled as inconspicuously as possible amidst the town. Steel stood a little apart from her town, as did Laffaysham – enough distance to be a setting for her beauty. Betchem city spread out on either side of the Keep which faced the approach-road four-square, and arrogant. From looks alone, it had every right to be!

 

The dauntingly high walls were rich, Vandyke brown with four towers, two on either side of the huge gate and had stepped-out battlements with aesthetically pleasing loop-holed Ghibellines, obviously from the days when arrows were used in battle. Beyond these walls, which extended a great distance in either direction, the roofs of the Keep could just be seen, mingled with what must be truly enormous trees. Everything was massive, as could be judged by the apparently miniature horse and carriage being driven along the wide road alongside the walls, and the apparently tiny merlons and crenels in relation to the height of the wall.

 

“Big, is she not?” chuckled Joster at his own understatement.

 

Neal turned in his saddle and looked at him. “If I had been taken to Betchem upon my arrival here, I would have concluded that there was no hope for me!”

 

“Betchem always says they are the Keep that would have taken all the Alliance Keepers and had rooms for each – and been their final and successful stand against the enemy! It is carved on that gate in rather archaic High Sheel.”

 

Neal murmured in High Sheel, perversely irritated, “Pride goeth before a fall…”

 

“I know you love Steel Keep, Neal, but Betchem did have a better chance of saving all of the inhabitants of the Alliance Keeps!”

 

Neal couldn’t really argue with that, and didn’t want to, since his man had just called him _Neal_ !

 

“Laffaysham Keep is also extremely large,” Neal muttered, last-resort fashion.

 

Joster said nothing, and they rode forward. The nearer they got, of course, the higher the walls appeared. Merritt called for a stop, got out his and Joster’s livery, which they slipped on over their heads, and saddled his mare. Then he solemnly took out the Steel Keep Pennant. Neal watched in amazement as he affixed a flag boot to his saddle, gave the pennant to Joster while he mounted, and then took it back and slipped it into the boot and made sure it was standing straight.

        

“You have got to be kidding me!” Neal said, in English, and then had to attempt an appropriately-toned response in Sheel. It’s formality made it a little difficult!

 

“It is the correct thing to do, Master Neal!” Merritt told him.

 

“I thought being a conman was hard!” Neal muttered to himself, but not quietly enough…Joster grinned and said, “I understand about conmen, now. I asked our Lord Steel. So just pretend that we are going to Betchem to steal something, and you are pretending to be the heir to Steel Keep!”

 

Neal looked at him in surprise and laughed. “You are exactly right! That is what we will do.”

 

“Without the stealing, of course, Master Neal!”

 

“Oh, of course!” Neal answered, chuckling to himself.

 

Joster look at him, not quite understanding the tone of Neal’s voice. But at least he had made his master laugh! “But, Master Neal, you need to look the part, too!”

         He straightened Neal’s shirt and pushed his hair off his face.

 

“Who are you, my mother?” Neal demanded, then wondered if his mother had ever done that!

 

“Brak fixes our Lord’s clothing at formal affairs.”

 

“I shall go back to Earth and become a beach bum,” Neal told him. “A – a tramp, a person with few resources and who can care less what other people think of him!”

 

“When you do, you are welcome to dress badly,” Joster insisted. “While we are responsible for you, Master, that will not be the case.”

 

Neal sighed.

 

They approached the enormous gates, set on each side with Betchem’s crest, which swung open with perfect timing. Liveried soldiers – with a Betchem pennant each! - rode out, but these were smiling broadly, unlike those at Sunder. The Steel Keepers smiled back and the Betchem warriors pulled in on either side to escort them inside. The covered walk-way was similar in design to that at Steel, just enormous! The six mounted men rode abreast with a great deal of room to spare. A man was quick to take the wagon’s traces from Merritt, and as soon as they reached the stable yard their horses were taken, and Joster went to show them which bags they would need.

 

         Neal walked between the soldiers , his men walking behind him. They reached a large atrium and Neal gasped. It was vast! Right in the middle grew a tremendous tree, fifteen men would have had to stand finger-tip to finger-tip to reach around the trunk. The branches spread up and out from two storeys up, supporting the beautifully constructed ceiling. Although it was all rich browns, it was so spacious and the windows so many and large, that it seemed full of light.

 

Large pennants in Betchem green and gold hung around the edges, hanging from the edge of a walkway, decorated with their tree-and-crown emblem.

 

Before Neal could really appreciate the hall, he saw the Betchem welcoming group, and Lord and Lady Betchem themselves were first to reach him. He stood his ground, but he wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do – and then Lord Betchem enveloped him in a warm hug, and Lady Betchem followed suite. He was very startled, but the Lord laughed and said, “Neal of Steel, heir to my good friend Caerrovon, are you surprised to be given a kinsman’s welcome?”

        

“I am always pleased to be welcomed, Lord and Lady Betchem, and to such a gorgeous Keep, it is a privilege – but kinsman?”

 

“Why, yes, knew you not? Your father’s mother was the younger sister of _my_ mother!” Lord Betchem told him. “Now, come, let us partake of refreshment, then you shall bathe and rest!”

 

Neal tried to take in all the faces, but all he could do was feel reassured: they all looked pleased to have him there.

 

“You have not met many of my family,” Lady Betchem told him, “but we all are aware of your quite new status at Steel, and Caerrovon lived half his childhood here and he and his kin and Keep-folk are always welcome here.”

 

“Thank you, Lady! I am all but overcome! Thank you!” Neal bowed, and she smiled at him. “Courtly manners…but I remember that from your party. One day, I shall get Caerrovon to tell me all about that! It was a surprise to get the invitation, and just a blessing that Lord and Lady Camber and ourselves were quite close to Steel, conducting some business of our own.”

 

“I wondered about that,” Neal smiled, settling down. There seemed to be Betchem’s sitting on every available surface! He saw Ethlan, and smiled at him, and Ethlan smiled back.

 

“You have not met my family, other than Ethlan…that visit to Laffaysham was very busy.

         “I have my uncles, brothers, children, grandchildren and great-grandchildren here…well, some are at other Keep’s, of course, but most of them are here.”

 

Neal made a bit of a face. “It is odd for me, Lord Betchem. I come from a species who, at least on our home world, live only about…oh, thirty-five to forty-five of your four-seasons and are only able to reproduce for much less than that…the women can only have babies for about eight or ten of your four-seasons, so we never have great-great-grandparents living. Which you could have, if your uncles and aunts are still around! It must make remembering family details difficult?”

 

“No! We are used to it, you see. But we have to start thinking in terms of smaller families.”

 

“Oh?” Neal asked, surprised. He remembered that it was thought very odd that his Lord was an only child, and that was because his father died without re-marrying.

 

“Yes. We used to lose a great many children of every generation to illness, accidents, and then war took a toll on every family. We have enjoyed a long period of peace and now that we have the benefits of the Chiri, we seldom lose anyone till they move on from old age.”

 

“Oh! I had not considered that!”

 

“The population of every Keep – except Steel! – has grown very rapidly. So you see us…but my younger relatives are producing less babies.”

 

“That is very wise. You have – from the outside it appears an enormous Keep!”

 

“It is large, but we cannot be irresponsible in the use of our buildings, or our land.”

 

“So, Lord and Lady Betchem, how am I to remember all the names of all your family?” Neal asked, comically, and they smiled back.

 

“Bother not to try, Neal! No-one will feel slighted if you remember not their names, or the exact relationship to another of our tribe! Merely ask them their names! Over the seasons you will have a better understanding. Easy it is not…we have a pair who try and keep track of all the lineage and all the interlinking between Keeps, and some of the older records are faded and even incorrect!”

 

“I am not certain that makes me feel any better!”

 

Lord Betchem leaned forward. “Is there anything you would wish to see while you are here? I understand this is very odd for an alien, your first time visiting all the different Keeps…”

 

Neal looked up and then back at the Lord. “Lord Betchem, I would very much like to be shown around this incredible building, I would like to see your art, the architecture, perhaps your library! And I would ask a candle-mark or two of your time. Other than those things, I would just like to get a feel for this, my father’s favourite Keep – but he specifically mentioned that we not tell anyone else of that preference!”

 

Those listening laughed. Everyone drank various fruit juices, and teas, smiling slaves brought around trays of snacks – it was sort of like a cocktail party, without the alcohol! - and then Neal and his men were shown their suite, on the third storey. They walked up massive wooden stairways, down curved corridors. There was a great deal of ornamental deep-relief carving, intricate wooden-lace screens, wooden statues. All the woodwork was not only perfect and strong, but beautiful. There were paintings hung here and there, and some tapestries.

 

The branches of what Neal could only think were at least four enormous trees such as the one he had seen in the entrance hall…or Greatroom, or whatever it was…made up the main supporting pillars of the part of the Keep he had yet seen. And here and there, in open areas, the leaves of those trees were flourishing verdantly!

_Swiss Family Robinson! On a grand scale!_

Their suite was extravagant. The rooms were large, the beds massive, covered with fur karosses and white duvets and linens. The floor was made up of various woods put together in attractive parquetry.

 

“See what I mean?” Joster said to Neal.

 

“I see exactly what you were trying to say. It is organic, following the lines of the trees and their growth-forms. I can see why my Lord loves it!”

 

The bathrooms were sealed wood, the bathtub appeared to Neal to be carved from a single piece of wood; he could detect no joints! It was as though the Betchemen wanted to see if they could make everything from wood!

 

He came out of the bathroom and said to his men, “The thing I was unaware of till now is the smell! Everything smells of the woods, and the polish! It is lovely, rich!”

 

They smiled at his delight. He had been almost oppressed by beige Camber!

 

There was a knock on the door and Merritt opened it and there stood Ethlan.

 

“So, son of my friend, do you find your rooms adequate?”

 

“How should I address you, friend of my father?” Neal grinned.

 

“Oh, I am Ethlan!”

 

“That is not at all what I was asking!”

 

The tall man laughed. “Ethlan is quite adequate. I am considered very young still, here, and my brothers and sisters would laugh if you tried to call me by any honorific!”

 

“Then let me tell you, Ethlan, that I am in awe of your truly splendid, growing Keep, including these rooms that seem too grand for my poor self! Does it not require frequent changes and…pruning?”

 

Ethlan nodded. “We do need to make the openings around branches bigger from time to time. Are the trees not wonderful?”

 

“I am almost at a loss for words, and my Lord will tell you that happens extremely seldom!”

 

“Will you be ready for a first tour soon? I have much to show you, much about which to ask you!”

 

“Let me change my riding boots!” He sat and Merritt, with a slight frown to tell him to just put up with it! – pulled his boots and Joster handed him his suede house-boots, and helped smooth them on.

 

He escaped from their ministrations and closed the door behind him with a sigh. Ethlan smiled. “You are not used to being served? Caerrovon mentioned you were somewhat reluctant.”

 

“Ethlan, not to that extent. On my home world we do have people who are in service, …nurses, waiters, tailors, grooms, but not, for the vast majority of us, in our bedrooms!”

 

Ethlan walked with him for a space and said, “Forgive me, but I am of course most interested in the man my friend chose over all others to be his heir.”

 

“If you are going to ask me why, I have no answer that will satisfy you for I have heard none! My Lord says he loves us. We love him. It is not sufficient, but that is all I can say. He told me that my brother and I have twisty minds, able to look at problems from many different angles and find sometimes unusual solutions. But, Ethlan, he will have children of his own. We are an interim measure.”

 

Ethlan leaned over the carved railing looking over one of the huge open rooms – in this case a diningroom with a table made, by the look of it from this angle, from a single slab cut from a giant tree. It would seat a hundred people, Neal thought, beside him.

 

“Caerrovon told me himself that he had found some intriguing off-world humans that made him laugh and startled him regularly, and that he was fond of them all…this was a while ago. When he wrote to tell me of his heirs, he described you both as each unique alone and more so as a pair, and that you had proven your worth, your honour and your affection for him and he responded and loved you both.”

 

Neal smiled. “We love him. You know why, for you know him.”

 

Ethlan turned, leaning on one elbow and looked at Neal, who responded similarly. “Please do not be offended, Neal. I know you only a little, and mostly through my friend’s eyes…”

 

“Ethlan, if I disappoint Lord Steel, or fail him in any way, it will not be for want of trying. We are far from perfect, and many of our failings Lord Steel knows. But truly we love him and would die for him.”

 

Ethlan smiled into his eyes.

 

Neal smiled back. “The Laffay gift.”

 

Ethlan made a face. “I have not got it in great degree, but I know you to be telling me the truth. How did you…”

 

“My Lord has it, in some measure, through his mother. Your father’s mother is my Lord’s mother’s sister and therefore, the possibility is there. And by telling me the connection, your father spoiled my Lord’s surprise, I believe!”

 

Ethan raised his eyebrows. Neal chuckled. “I have a tendency to get into trouble and…and be surreptitious in my dealings. Let me guess: your father has the empathy in large measure and my Lord has reason to know this?”

 

Ethlan threw his head back and laughed. “You would not credit the number of times we all – but perhaps especially Caerrovon and I! – got caught in some mischief or naughtiness when we played here as children. We could not understand how, with all our care, my father or one of his men, would find us out!”

 

“My father has a wicked sense of humour, and I believe hoped that I would be found out by the same gift!”

 

“Caerrovon told me that on your world you are a man?”

 

“Yes, have been for more than half my life. Here, my small stature makes it difficult for others to believe I could have had as many children as your father, at least if I had a very healthy and long-suffering wife!”

 

“But how do you know – ?”

 

“I read the genealogy. I cannot put names to faces, yet. And to date I have had little luck in making others accept my adult state!”

 

Ethlan put his head on one side. “It is not only the inches, though your species is smaller than ours. But your eyes are large, you have a youthfulness, a joyfulness about you.”

 

“I believe my father might call it, on my bad days, ‘recklessness’, ‘fearlessness’ or perhaps at worst, ‘irresponsibility’! I will take your words as a compliment when Lord-Keepers stop threatening to have me thrashed as a troublesome, precocious child!”

 

Ethlan laughed again. “Be thankful, son of Steel! At our Keeps, remember, troublesome men can be thrashed also, just more severely than children, or whipped in extreme cases. In Keep’s other than the Five, or for truly heinous offences, the punishment can be worse: branding, even death. Preserve your appearance of youth, Neal, until you become dull and obedient!”

 

“That is a point I had not considered fully! Thank you, Ethlan!”

 

His new friend smiled. “I think I begin to see why Caerrovon chose you, Neal.”

 

 

End of Chapter 13

 

Thanks to all those who comment and all the trouble you have taken, some of you!

 

 


	14. Grandmother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> More about Betchem and a little about young Steel

 

 

 

They wandered through the lovely curved, glowing wood. In many places, it almost felt as though they were walking in access ways carved out of the living tree itself! Ethlan took him right to the top, where the huge canopy of trees shaded the whole roofing structure. In this weather, groups and couples of family and slaves of Betchem sat under the branches, the top of those huge trees Neal had seen when he entered the Keep.

 

The view was stunning. There was a large area of garden, and beyond that fields to the north of an enormous forest that could have come out of a children’s story-book. Right through the fields ran a long, thin lake that curved and reached almost to the forest at its nearest edge. People were working in the garden and exercising horses on the grassed roads between the fields. Though there were some smaller trees around the edges, each of the nearest main trees of the forest were almost as gigantic as those that made up the Keep residence itself.

 

Neal did not know the names of the trees, but they looked like Earth hardwoods. There were no coniferous-looking trees.

 

“They lose their leaves in the winter?”

 

“Yes. We close these great arched shutters over our trees in the winter, and the forest is quiet and sleeping. We harvest those trees we have selected then, and horses pull them out on skids. Therefore none of the trees is traumatised, as they are dormant. We pick trees that have been damaged, or show perhaps some illness – except the burls, which we allow to grow for specific projects.”

 

Neal had seen clear-cutting on Earth and it always tore his heart. “So you choose one tree here, another there?”

 

“Yes. We have enough, we can be selective. Sometimes, we are looking for a number of a particular kind, for sets of furniture requested by some Keep or another. Sometimes we are called in to replace a staircase or a counter, or more prosaically, rafters or braces, barns and sheds and floors. Other buildings, especially where the winters are more severe, are made entirely of thick wood logs as it is warmer, they say. And part of Sunder became diseased, we know not why, and we had to replace two whole floors of their wood to take their stone slabs, you saw those?”

 

“Yes. The exposed wood beams there are enormous!”

 

Ethlan nodded. “Not so much for us! We are used to dealing with large slabs and pieces. But we were forced to work quickly: Sunder wanted their floors back!”

 

“You must have great stores of wood, to be able to respond in such an emergency.”

 

“Under the Keep, yes, we store the seasoned wood.

 

“And the wood goes to carriages and wagons and sleighs?”

 

“Yes. We have ended up working a great deal with Sunder: they take our wood for practical wagons and sleighs and make springs and most of the metal parts for our carriages, sleighs and boats of a more ornamental nature…well, they are practical, of course, but much more finely crafted, some are luxurious. And we send seasoned wood, specific types and sizes usually, to a great many small freeman businesses everywhere.

         “Your Keep makes many silver and steel pieces as well, as well as brass and copper, of course.”

 

They made their way down, and although there were areas of more carving, or less, parquetry or none, lacy wood carvings…it all worked together. Neal loved it, found himself caressing the smooth, polished, glowing surfaces, amazed at how alive they felt beneath his sensitive fingers.

 

“You must all spend hours applying polish and rubbing it in, this is all so beautiful!” he said to Ethlan.

 

“Sorry now that you were bought by Steel?” Ethlan asked, amused.

 

Neal pulled himself up. “Oh, your Keep is warm and glorious and – and vast and yet with cosy rooms and – I am in awe, Ethlan, truly, and I know not your father, of course, but – but - ”

 

Ethlan laughed. “I am teasing you, Neal.”

 

“I think not that I would have come to feel about Lord Betchem as I did about my Lord Steel, partly because you are so much bigger! My Lord got to know us…some of our friends burst into the Keep – it was – most Lords would not have had time to put up with us patiently, let alone get to know us!

         “And Steel Keep may be small and made of good, solid stone, Ethlan, but my Lord’s heart is enormous and soft and warm and I love him.”

 

Ethlan nodded. “I know. I am glad you have him, and he has you – now I want to meet your brother!”

 

Neal chuckled. “My brother is a little different.”

 

“To you? To Caerrovon?”

 

“To any living being you will ever meet, Ethlan! He is not very…forthcoming…most of the time. But when he makes a friend, he keeps the friend! He is brilliant and loyal and funny – not always intentionally – and paranoid.”

 

“More and more I wish to meet him!”

 

They visited the library, a gigantic but warm library like Steel’s – it looked as though the books were read, and in fact there were three people in there talking to two librarians when they looked in briefly. Ethlan took him down corridor after corridor, some enclosed and rather narrow, some open on one side to the elements in this season, widening to allow seating to observe the view.

 

“Worry not if you get lost, Neal, unless one is born here it is inevitable! There are jokes about new slaves that have walked these hallways and staircases for fifty-days, trying to find something specific. There is even the tale of a ghost of my…great, great-grandfather, a Lord named Rethethlyn, slain, we are told, in a duel for a fair lady, who wanders the place and moans frequently because find his way about he cannot!”

 

Neal chuckled. “Has anyone seen this poor phantom? Surely it would be easy to give him a map?”

 

“And spoil the tale for the children? I personally think this place was made this way so that no spies could possibly infiltrate during the Keep Wars! We would find them starved to death in some nook or another!”

 

“On Earth, during the big war before the aliens came, the one little country deliberately removed all road signs, but in some areas the residents put up signs, but all pointed in the wrong direction. It was fine for locals, of course, but even friendly strangers became very confused!”

 

They saw the kitchens, in passing, and they both took a piece of bread and meat, baked rather like a small Cornish Pasty, to nibble on. They went to the stables. Merritt and Joster were there, grooming the horses. The stables were almost as big as Steel’s. Here the woodwork of the actual stalls was more prosaic, since these horses also show some tendency to kick and chew, but the tack-room and all the outer buildings were beautiful.

 

Ethlan showed him the Keep’s very ostentatious carriages and wagons – and then the carriages and wagons and light vehicles they were building. Slaves were busily working, wanting to get the paintwork right here, a door-hinge straight there…they stopped as the two walked past and greeted them, and went straight back to work.

 

“They seem…dedicated?”

 

“It is nearly dinner time. They work not in the evenings as a rule and it has become a – a thing of pride, if you will, that we finish a piece of work rather than leave it half-done. It is not a rule, it is for fun.”

 

“This is where you work?”

 

“When a friend’s son does not give me an excuse to show off my home! Yes, I do the upholstery.” Ethlan showed Neal a beautiful carriage they were making for a wealthy businessman in Trent. His crest was on the door-panels, the whole thing was a deep blue outside with pale blue leather upholstery.

 

“From Camber?” Neal queried of the leather.

 

“Yes, you are learning the way our trading works!”

 

“Your slave-collars are chains, somewhat like ours!” Neal pulled his out of his pocket and put it on.

 

Ethlan nodded, looking at Neal’s collar. He called, “Taft, come over?” and a broad, older slave hurried up. “Taft, my friend from Steel, Sir Neal, would like to see your collar up close, to compare to those at Steel?”

 

Taft undid his leather jerkin which concealed his collar. The collar was chains, but all connected to a wooden oval that lay flat at the top of his sternum, and was carved with the tree-and-crown of Betchem. The whole thing lay lower down at the base of the neck, the chains draping across the shoulders.

 

“It is comfortable?” Neal asked.

 

“I never think about it, Sir Neal,” the man laughed. “At first I fretted with it, I came from Sunder, where they wear only rings, but I soon became used to it.”

 

“Sunder does have collars,” Ethlan said, “but they only wear them in times of war and they are, in fact, a piece of armour that encircles the neck and protects it from high sword-strokes or, in the olden days, arrows. They would be very awkward at other times, I believe.”

 

“Tallk did not even bother to mention them, they are so seldom worn now,” Neal agreed, nodding his thanks to Taft.

 

“Come, we should start back so we can change for dinner,” Ethlan suggested.

 

Merritt had memorised the way to the diningroom, so he and Neal walked side-by-side.

 

“Any rumours about the Earthlings, or is that all laid to rest?” Neal queried.

 

“Nothing. This is such a big Keep that the few deaths have made little impact,” Merritt told him. “The people here seem happy, like back home.”

 

“Yes. I am getting a little homesick for Steel Keep!”

 

“You think it as beautiful as this?”

 

“It is home, Merritt. There is nowhere more beautiful than home!”

 

“We are blessed to live there! This is beautiful, Master Neal, but it is so big I think all of Steel Keepers could move in and no-one would notice our presence! It is not as much like a family, where we all know each other.”

 

The clan sat round the huge dining table. The slaves served, and would eat after the family, Merritt explained as they reached the room, taking turns on serving each other, though on each ten-day, the family served the slaves, a little celebration, making note of all the special things that had happened that week.

 

“I like that idea!” Neal told him.

 

“But our Keep is nothing like as formal, Master Neal – we all serve all the time, anyway!”

 

“Come, Neal,” Lady Betchem called. “You will sit between me and our eldest son. Meet Ambreth.”

 

Ambreth stood as Neal approached, they half-bowed to each other and both seated themselves.

 

“You are so young for an heir, Neal!” Ambreth said. “Do you not feel…uneasy?”

 

Neal smiled, though the whole ‘you are young, you are small’ thing was beginning to pall fast! “Considering my father’s age compared to yours, and the size of our Keep compared to yours, I feel quite secure and content, Ambreth!”

 

Other than that, the conversation around the table was friendly. They asked him what he did before being taken (he told the FBI-consultant story), how hard it had been to adjust to being a slave (very easy at Steel – though he didn’t tell them about the anklet and why slavery seemed like a step towards freedom, at least with Steel as his Lord!) He spoke at some length with Lady Betchem about the art of Earth, all the different styles and how he was now re-creating some of it here, and doing his own individual work as well, having completed his studies.

 

Lord Betchem reached over and said, “Perhaps this evening after we have finished we could go and look at the family gallery. We have some spectacular works…and Ethlan can show you all the rest tomorrow.”

 

“I would like that very much, Lord Betchem! Thank you!”

 

After they had finished, Lord Betchem lead the way to the gallery. His heir, Ambreth, as well as a sister, Floretha and Ethlan, elected to come as well.

 

“I love the artwork, there, Neal,” Floretha told him. “It is not really of much greater value in terms of gold or wood than other pieces we have, but it always feels to me as though my ancestors enfold me!”

 

Neal smiled at her, interested in her comment. Of all the other Keeps, Betchem seemed most like Steel, except for the scale, and her people the most like Steel Keepers. This lady was tall – as tall as he – with lovely bones. In common with most of the women here she wore her flaxen hair long and braided, wrapped round her head like a crown.

         Tonight she wore a soft overall in a kind of plum, cinched at her waist with a broad belt. Everyone here, as at home, wore brown work clothes, but liked to dress in colours in the evening. The older women often wore soft, long dresses but some, and many younger women, wore trews of various styles.

  
They reached a large double door with carvings of many trees.

 

_These people resonate, identify with their trees!_

 

Lord Betchem fished out of his ornate jacket a chain on which was fastened several keys. He unlocked the doors and pushed them and they swung open without the creak Neal expected.

 

Inside was a long double-room, split down the middle with a wall. On each side, as the lights brightened, were portraits. Many were three feet tall, some four, a few a good six feet without the added inches of the frame all around.

 

The first, and possibly largest, was a combined portrait of the founder of the Keep and his wife, the first Lord and Lady Betchem, looking a little severe.

 

“They are more or less in chronological order where possible, though sometimes the smaller portraits share a wall-space and sometimes break the time pattern,” Floretha said, lightly touching the plain black frame of her earliest named ancestors, as she would have one of their sleeves, a gesture of affection.

 

The little group walked slowly down the left hand side, looking at all the paintings to their left. The colours became brighter as they went, the frames changed just a little. Neal was studying the technique, the use of colours and perspective and light as much as looking at the faces of the people.

 

They walked back up the other side of the room to the doorway then started down the next part of the double room. Lord Betchem and Ambreth were telling Neal who was related to whom and what they had done for Betchem – who had married well and put in the new wing, who had married a Camber and secured the trade between their Keeps, and later, which had been a great military leader, and who had added this or that to the battlements. Neal listened to all this and took dry mental notes.

 

He was much more entertained by Ethlan and Floretha, who noted that this Lady looked not very pleased to be married off to this older man; look, they are now adding the pets – here is a puppy, here a chicken – and how the fashions had become at first very restrained and warrior-like during the long period of the Keep Wars, and then became completely flamboyant and joyful after they were won, how broad and carefree were the smiles!

 

_After all, though I see transitions in the major techniques used, various new pigments and bolder brush strokes through the middle period – they are noting what portraits are really all about!_

 

They were three-quarters of the way down the left wall of the second room when a slave knocked and entered on the Lord’s word.

         “Sorry, Lord Betchem, but the steward has a question about the last trade with Laffaysham, he says you approved it, you and Master Ambreth.”

 

“I will come, Newan,” Ambreth said. “No need for us both to go, Father.”

 

“No, no, there was some oddity about our order, the steward at Laffaysham queried it…I shall come!”

 

“Shall we leave the gallery, Father?” Ethlan asked.

 

“No, no, we are nearing the end of it…you continue. I shall send Towan to fetch the keys after you lock up, son.”

 

The three continued. Now they saw Lord Betchem’s father and mother…there was a very small portrait of his mother, and Neal winced. The technique was inferior to most of the others. Next to it was a much larger piece, the technique so superb that the juxtaposition made the first appear even more amateurish!

 

The larger reminded Neal immediately of a Rembrandt, the contrast of light and shade, perhaps a little of Titian. He stepped way back and looked at the lovely lady, standing holding low an armful of very pale yellow flowers. Her dress was pale, soft and indistinct…her body was turned a quarter-turn, though she was smiling directly at the viewer, inviting him into the frame with her! Her hair was braided, but soft tendrils of it escaped and framed her face in a glow, as from some soft additional back-lighting.

 

“Wow!” Neal said. He was aware of Ethlan and Floretha nudging each other. “What! – this is the masterpiece of the whole gallery, seriously – so far, anyway. There are many wonderful works, but as a painter and an artist, this man is several steps closer to heaven than any other you have represented! Who is this beautiful woman?”

 

“Her name was Caerralissia,” Ethlan said. “By adoption, I suppose, your grandmother. She is Caerrovon’s mother.”

 

“My Lord’s mother? But – what is her portrait doing here?”

 

The two burst out laughing. “Like father, like son!” Floretha said to her brother. “Same note of annoyance, did you hear?”

 

Neal looked between them.

 

“When your Lord and father first saw this, he asked the same question,” Ethlan said. “And when my father explained – let the children into the gallery by themselves he would not, he always had to be here – that the work had been commissioned by your father’s mother’s sister – _our_ grandmother - to paint Caerralissia and so it hung here, he became more and more annoyed. It was as though his _mother_ was held here against her will!”

 

“Our father was a tolerant man, on the whole,” Floretha went on. “And Caerrovon was usually a happy little child if unprovoked – I think he must have been about four winters when this happened?” Ethlan nodded. “But at that point he threw a most spectacular tantrum!”

 

“We were young,” Ethlan said. “Soft Father was not, he spanked us all regularly when we misbehaved, or disobeyed him or Mother – or our teachers, you know. And we were punished more severely as we grew older. But I think that was the only time _I_ remember him being really _angry._ ”

 

“You probably remember not Caerrovon’s fury, and the accusations that went with it!” Floretha smiled. “We should have known he would become a champion fighter, even at that age! Father did try to reason with him, but he was having nothing to do with giving in!”

 

Ethlan winced. “I just remember being confused, startled at his reaction, and a little scared by the whole episode! I was _very_ careful around my father, and in general, for many fifty-days afterwards!”

 

“Then Caerrovon did the rest of our family a service!” his sister teased. “For a fifty-day or two, at least!”

 

“But,” Neal frowned, “but my father had lost his mother! It is understandable that he was upset to find her here!”

 

“Now, good friend of my father, do not you start!” Ethlan gave him a one-armed hug.

 

Neal took a breath and asked, “But why did not the same great artist paint your own mother? Her portrait is not …by the same man.”

 

“Woman, actually, she was from Laffaysham and they say one of the foremost artists ever. She loved to paint flowers and landscapes, birds, all sorts of things. Most of her works hang at Laffaysham. But, of course, portraiture brought in money and cemented alliances for Laffaysham, since work she would not for Keeps or Tradehouses or anyone who was not a good friend to Laffaysham. It is not clear as to whether that was her Lord Laffay’s decision, or hers, by the by.”

 

“I wish I could have met her. I shall have to return to Laffaysham…at some time.” Neal thought of Aramalitha and wished this artist could have painted _her! “_ I was not paying enough attention when I visited there. I have studied some of this lady’s work, but still-lifes and landscapes only.”

 

“And she painted not our mother because she died not long after her sister’s portrait was finished. She was sick when it was painted and refused to have her likeness captured when she felt unwell. And she never recovered.” Ethlan sighed. “There is a saying that to be full Laffay is to live with the skin off, to live a hundred-fold in a short life. They often do not live to an old age.”

 

“I am sorry,” Neal said. “I lost my family, too. I can understand.”

 

“In the Slaver Wars?” Floretha asked, sympathetically.

 

“No, much earlier.”

 

They left the gallery, carefully locking up after themselves.

 

“Do you think your father would mind if I took a step-ladder tomorrow and studied my grandmother’s portrait, the technique?” Neal queried. “It is some of the finest work I have ever seen.”

 

Ethlan turned to look at him, and Neal looked back guilelessly. “Of course – you are one of the few people on the planet who can really understand the quality of a Sonsharelitha! I am sure my father will agree!”

 

Neal smiled. “I hope he will allow me this consideration.”

 

_Good! I can shield against Ethlan and Floretha. It remains to be seen what I can do against the dreaded Dark Lord himself!_

End of Chapter 14

 

 

 


	15. Up to Something

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal - and Mozzie - plan to steal grandma.

 

 

 

The next day Neal was shown the huge underground storage for the finished wood…the ovens for curing some woods…the enormous areas for getting them to the correct dryness, all stacked in beautiful cross-hatched squares.

 

“Getting them to the correct moisture content without splitting is crucial, and it is an art…some people just get to know it. Even some very young apprentices. For others, including me, it is a mystery,” Ethlan shrugged. “Then we water cure…”

 

“And that is?”

 

They walked out from the front of the Keep, through the outer gates and into the gardens. The sun was already getting warm.

 

“We cut the log into slices – planks of a little more than the correct thickness, or some trees, especially those with lovely burls are left whole, and dropped in the lake. We have to get them in there before it freezes over, of course, and we have to weight them down so they float not. Then they are left as long as necessary – at least until they do not rise when the weights are removed.”

 

“At the bottom of the lake?”

 

“Yes. We found it to work by accident one season…then, of course, they must be slowly dried. But they do not split if done correctly.”

 

“How long do these trees live?” Neal asked, turning and looking back at the Keep, with its harmonious lines and the leaves showing in many places.

 

“Ours should live at least three times as long as they have been there,” Ethlan smiled. “Though we have people working out how we could grow a sister tree to each, as they reach old age, and shift each floor over to the new tree…but the old ones should remain solid for a long time.”

 

“Could they not warp if they die?”

 

“Whole logs do not warp badly, though they do split. We would wrap them in iron bands to keep them solid. It is not going to be in my life-time…”

 

“And they never have diseases?”

 

A shadow crossed Ethlan’s face. “Only one seems not as healthy as it should be…a younger tree in the Keep structure. We have wanted the Chiri to come and feel it, but they are only visiting sick humans and now and then a very valuable animal or pet, until this mystery with the sudden deaths is solved.”

 

“You have no ideas about the deaths? We must solve this!”

 

“We have had meetings, we have asked everyone!”

 

They looked at each other, both concerned.

 

Then Neal shrugged, “Tomorrow morning, may I see the schoolchildren? I teach at Steel and I like to show them some things to open their minds…have some fun with them?”

 

“I will organise it, Neal.”

 

“You will not forget about the painting?” Neal asked, anxiously. “I have never seen such work as that.”

 

“Let us go and speak to Father now…then I shall leave you and get on with my work.”

 

“Artistry just as important and more practical!” Neal chuckled.

 

 

 

Lord Betchem listened to Ethlan’s explanation. “Well, Neal, from what you say you are well able to care for masterpieces,” he said, turning a insightful eye on the heir to Steel.

 

Neal smiled. “I am. I have in the past been entrusted with some of the most important and valuable pieces on Earth – though that is mere monetary value and not necessarily a reflection on the quality of the work, just what people are prepared to pay for it.                        

“Obviously, this portrait is of immeasurable value. It is created by a lengendary artist who is no longer living, it is irreplaceable – but more, it is of your kinsman, your aunt, which gives it a value far above mere gold or wood. And I merely wish to closely observe it, try and ascertain how the artist achieved her effects…I wish to do no tests or anything an authenticator would need to do.”

 

Ethlan grinned. Neal had picked up his mannerisms easily.

 

“That is true. Of what use is studying it, to you, son of Steel?”

 

Neal looked directly at him. “If you entered a new Keep, or came to my planet, and saw woodwork that was more beautiful and more advanced than any your craftsmen had achieved, would you not want to study it, to bring those techniques and skills to your own work?”

 

Lord Betchem nodded. “I would. I shall entrust you with the key whenever you wish during your stay, Neal. You may return it at the end of each day.”

 

Neal nodded, his mien serious. “I am very grateful, Lord Betchem. I will find some way of repaying you one day, I hope and trust.”

 

“Be good to my nephew, Neal.”

 

Then Neal smiled. “That cannot be counted as repayment, for I already plan to do that to the very best of my ability!”

 

Neal took the key, put it around his own neck and went off in search of a ladder and more lights, glad-hearted.

 

Lord Betchem said to Ethlan, “He is up to something! But it cannot be of great import, I cannot see details. It is as your brothers and sisters when they are planning a birthday surprise for you. He wants to laugh within himself.”

 

“My friend says this man has no malice in him,” Ethlan told his father.

 

“I think I would agree. Well, we shall see, son!”

 

 

Neal hurried to set up the lights, which made sweet chirring noises as they sprang to life, and the ladder. He made sure to lock the door so he wouldn’t be surprised and took his collar and removed a single strand of his favourite chain. This he set carefully on the ledge of the frame behind his grandmother’s portrait. He smiled at her and said, “You would probably not approve, grandma, but I am playing a long con to take you home to be with your son!”

 

Then he jumped back to the studio at Steel. He hoped that Mozzie would be there, but it was a vain wish. He collected some things he would need and jumped back. He set about this work as he would any other. He blocked everything out of his mind and set about cataloguing the important details for this forgery.

 

When Ethlan knocked on the door and entered, Neal was sitting at the top of the ladder, observing the perfect skin texture of the face through a magnifying lens, ten lights set clustered about his head to avoid shadows. He heard the door and turned.

 

“Ethlan, this is truly beautiful. Great technique is one thing…but the successful capturing of spirit on canvas, or board, in stone or anywhere – that is art at its finest.”

 

“I have always thought her very lovely,” Ethlan agreed as Neal climbed down the ladder and stretched, groaning with fatigue.

 

“It is such a pity about your mother…are there any other paintings of her, other than that small one? Any groups? Was she anything like as beautiful as my grandmother is shown to be?”

 

Ethlan nodded. “She is shown here, behind my older brothers and sisters when they were small. There is no picture of her with me, she died when I was very young.

         “They say she and Caerrovon’s mother were very alike, but I have no recollection.

“And now you should dress for dinner, Neal.”

 

“No wonder you and my father became such firm friends,” Neal observed. “You had a great deal in common.”

 

“Yes, he is a little younger, but not by much. And,” Ethlan made a face, “he has the Steel drive. They are an odd bunch, the Steels. Like the magnifying glass you were using. They can see just one thing if they choose and see it in every detail. He is like that with the – with the - ”

 

“About the slavery?” Neal said, quietly.

 

“Yes. He was a boy when he saw the cruelty. We all had seen it, all the males, anyway. We shrugged and said something should be done, it was terrible and cruel. He started buying slaves and helping them, giving them a home, freeing many. At first it was very few, and in secret. His father knew about two brothers he bought…they died, and his father was furious and Caerrovon was punished. His father was very rigid. He looked not to his son’s intentions, just the result, that a great deal of money had been wasted and without his father’s permission.”

 

“It stopped not my Lord,” Neal smiled.

 

“No. Not at all. He had to wait to get his hands on the Keep’s resources before he did much more, but you know that he and Jarad - ?”

 

“Yes, he told me that story. How he met Lira.”

 

“Yes. I always admired, even envied him. I do not have that drive and never will have. I am quite content making beautiful carriages, and not trying to change the society.”

 

“Perhaps if you were close in line to the succession, it would have been different?”

 

“I think not, Neal. Some people are born like a sword, some are born like a bench! I am a bench! A happy bench, but a bench nevertheless!”

 

“Perhaps the bench should take comfort in giving people rest and living a life with less violence and tension!”

“I am lucky I am not a Sunder! My father would never let my brothers – and my sisters – make fun of me, or tease me too much. At Sunder every child must stand on his own feet and fight his own battles.”

 

“And when my father was here? Did they make fun of him?”

 

Ethlan laughed. “Not more than once, after he was seven or so winters.

         “I think my father would have liked me to have more fight in me than I ever had.”

 

Neal frowned. “I believe if you said that to him he would be surprised, Ethlan. He is not a sword, nor a bench…perhaps a wolf pack-leader? But both the pack-leader and the sword need a bench for their comfort or they would not be able to be effective. My Lord Steel loves you, I am quite sure your father does!”

 

Ethlan shrugged as they reached Neal’s suite. “I am good with a sword, with knives – and a target. I cannot imagine killing anyone!”

 

“And pray you never have to, Ethlan! I am the same! But if someone I love is at risk, I would without hesitation and I believe you to be the same. We would just rather not seek out those situations. And yet, the Sword of Steel loves us both!”

 

Ethan smiled. “I shall see you at dinner, Neal.”

 

 

 

That night, when everyone was asleep, Neal left a note for Joster on his bed saying **,**

**I AM NOT ABDUCTED, I AM MERELY WALKING. DO NOT WORRY ABOUT ME.**

**GO BACK TO SLEEP!**

**BOTH OF YOU**

**(THAT IS AN ORDER!)**

 

Then he jumped first into the Betchem family gallery, took his notepad from there and jumped to Mozzie.

 

He landed and Mozzie said, “Neal! A little warning!” and Neal blushed furiously and left the room post haste. He had not thought that Mozzie would be on Earth, in their Italian home, and it wasn’t the middle of the night, it was early evening and Sally was there…

and they were making each other happy…very happy...

 

Neal got himself a glass of wine and waited, building up the fire. Eventually …very eventually…Mozzie came out, tying a cord round the waist of his rich maroon robe. He glared melodramatically at Neal.

 

“Well, how was I supposed to know!” Neal apologised with a sheepish grin, as Mozzie got himself a glass and poured the last of the bottle, careful to leave the dregs. Then he swirled them round the punt, watching them. “And anyway, I remember that I have in the past been the one on the receiving end of compulsory coitus interruptus, so turn about is fair play!”

 

Mozzie grinned back. “I suppose that is true! Now what is so urgent that you invade our bedroom and its pleasures!”

 

“I want to steal a masterpiece and I need your help!”

 

“Ah!” Mozzie said, seating himself in front of the fire and arranging his robe. “Music to my ears! I leave my Love in the afterglow and join my friend in the foreplay!”

 

Neal frowned. “I thought of that analogy when I was at Camber, but somehow it seems even less wholesome when you say it!”

 

Mozzie grinned. “I love you for your beauty, Neal, but mainly for your physical skills used to invade the treasure-houses of others, your devious mind and Machiavellian character!”

 

Neal considered this a moment. “Good!” Then he repented, “Not that I don’t think you are a very special and lovely man and if I was in any way inclined - ”

 

“Just leave it at ‘good’, Neal! What are we going to steal?”

 

“Our grandmother!”

 

 

 

The next morning and the next, Neal went and talked with the school-children and asked them questions and answered theirs and did magic tricks and sang with them. The school was so big that they had to split it into two groups. He enjoyed himself and so did all of the children and teachers and as many Betchemen as could find their way to the school and insert themselves into the hall for his second show!

 

Then, smiling to himself and being gracious to what, on Earth, would be called fans, he made his way to the Keep and asked Lord Betchem for the key to the gallery. He made his way there, wanting to put in a little work before the mid-day meal.

 

He had left Mozzie with all the relevant details, planning how he would make the wooden structure for the plaster frame, from what materials to make the mold and how they would manufacture paints similar to those used by the great artist. Neal promised to get the local – alien – whichever - wood and luckily, Neal had, with their Lord’s financial support, studied how the artists made their paints and applied them to board or canvas, and what pigments had been available through the ages, so they did not need to do too much research.

 

“I have a good store of the Vi-Sil 1065 and 1069, the mold should be easy if it’s good original carved wood, ” Mozzie told him. “When we first got back, you started off working with El in New York but in general arts and crafts were not high on anyone’s agenda, and being able to jump I went around the planet collecting things we may need and that may become unavailable at least for a time! I didn’t steal them – I want art suppliers to remain in business, so I just paid with the gold and gave them some breathing room for the market to rebound. Also built some nice good-will, I believe! Luckily I had visited many of the great cities before the Alien Slavers came and so could jump to them.”

 

“And you have the cat.?”

 

“Yeah – did you know that Mastercast 770 had been discontinued? But I have the Hi-Pro Green. I know you hadn’t done plaster work for a long time! Stupid prison-time!”

 

“I’m glad – I wouldn’t want to have to go really old school!”

 

“Yeah, we can de-mold in 6 hours, if we have to, I have the Hi-Pro Blue catalyst, but I prefer the Green, I’ve worked with it more and that’s 16 hours.

         “I’ll get this side all fixed up, mon frere!”

 

“I can always count on you, Moz! And speed may be a factor!”

 

“What friends are for!

“Next time, though, use your Monet’s _Women in a Garden_ there as a focus if you think you’re coming to Italy! Or use the ear-bugs and call first?”

 

“Am I to believe you and Sally never cuddle in front of the fire…?” Neal teased and Mozzie threw a cushion at him, but it went through the empty air as Neal jumped back to Betchem. Moz just imagined he heard Neal’s laugh left behind him…!

 

 

 

As soon as he could get away after the mid-day meal, Neal went to the gallery and observed the panel on which the portrait was done. He counted growth-rings, measured distances between them, made copious notes. He observed the wood, the smell, everything he could. Pity he couldn’t just ask Ethlan! Ethlan wasn’t Mozzie, or Steel, or Peter, but he wasn’t so vague that a question about the exact wood and its age wouldn’t make him wonder a bit! Especially after the fact…

 

Having done the best he could, he went down to the wood stores, careful to not be seen and not to appear sneaky if he _was_ seen.

He narrowed down his search by size and thickness and then worked on finding a similar aged board, similar smell, colour, fineness of grain. He picked out three that looked about right, did detailed studies of their growth rings and decided that they would probably do. Only one needed to be perfect, and he thought he had one that was very close. He hid them and another chain from his collar. He just couldn’t risk moving them during the day. They were too big.

 

He took the opportunity to jump back to his studio at Steel, quickly check on the paints and brushes he had on hand and settled down for an hour’s sleep. He was going to need all he could get!

 

Joster looked at him when he entered their suite. “Where were you, Master Neal? We are supposed to be looking after you.”

 

“No-one has actually ever managed that, Joster!” Neal smiled. “And now I need to change for the evening meal.”

 

“But, Master Neal - ”

 

“Um – dressing? Now?”

 

 

 

That night, as before, Neal placed the same note on his bed, went into the bathroom and jumped to the gallery. He carefully took the beautiful portrait out of its frame and jumped with the frame to his Monet in Italy. Mozzie and Sally were there, sharing a glass of local wine. It was later at night than before. Neal always found the time-differences difficult!

 

Mozzie got up and took the frame. “Mmm…easy, Neal! Nice work, this.” He hurried away with it, and Sally poured Neal out some wine and gave him a hug and a kiss.

 

“Sorry about the last night, Sal,” Neal apologised, awkwardly.

 

“The look on your face was priceless, love! I’m from England, we’re not that prudish there, though I agree with Mozzie – the Monet is safer, in general!”

 

He hugged her with one hand. “I am so glad you and Mozzie…it’s good, isn’t it?”

 

“It’s wonderful! He is kind and brilliant and funny and – and - well, let’s just say he isn’t lacking in any department!”

 

“Uh- _huh_ ,” Neal said, looking away, colouring again. He hadn’t expected to have this conversation with Mozzie’s lover, ever, more shame to him!

 

Sally chuckled. “It’s true! I can’t see why he doesn’t have flocks of devoted females, other than that he’s kept himself completely hidden from most of the human race – races, I suppose I should say now! - most of his life!”

 

“Probably the reason!” Neal agreed.

 

Sally was suddenly serious. She gave his arm a determined tug. “Neal! I am not – not - using him or making off with his money or playing with him. I. Am. Not. If someone leaves this relationship, it is not going to be me.”

 

Neal turned and looked her in the eyes. “Promise?”

 

“Cross my heart!” she smiled. “You’re probably used to people falling for you, or even that stuffy Fed of yours. I can see you’re handsome, well-built – my eyes see all that. My heart sees just Mozzie. For me. He’s beautiful.”

 

“Don’t let him hear us talking. He may be embarrassed.”

 

“Don’t care! He’s a beautiful and special man, one in several billion.”

 

“On that we agree. My best friend, ever.”

 

“And mine. Now, how can I help you?”

 

“Can’t, I don’t think, Sal, not on this project! No computers involved! Except not to ask Moz to utilise too much of his ‘other department skills’, this job is time dependent!”

 

“No computers in general, yet! I have other skills, but probably not applicable to forging paintings!” Then she grinned that cheeky grin and said, “I’ll try not to wear him out too much! Can he jump to you with this when he’s finished?”

 

“Yeah, if it’s less than – oh, crumbs – tell him an hour before sunrise, Steel time! He’ll know.”

 

 

Mozzie jumped to the gallery with the frame with two hours to spare. Neal had collected his chain and the wood and taken them to his Steel studio before returning.

 

“Hi, Moz! Look at this!” Neal turned the portrait that he’d been studying.

 

“That is fantastic work,” Moz said, adjusting his spectacles.

 

“Why do you still wear those?” Neal asked, distracted.

 

“Sally likes them. She says my eyes are one of my best features and she doesn’t want to share them with anyone else.”

 

“She was telling me about some of her other favourite features,” Neal commented, innocently.

 

Mozzie didn’t miss a beat. “I had your studio at June’s bugged all the time you lived there, Neal, for your safety and for evidence against Burke for cruel and unusual punishment, bursting in at all times of the day or night and to make sure the FBI – or wandering criminal elements – didn’t bug it. So if we are about to have a clash about pillow talk, be aware that I am armed and dangerous.”

 

Neal’s face changed a little.

 

“See the lovely use of light?” he said, moving the portrait to where Moz could see it better.

 

“It is some of the best work I’ve ever seen,” Moz added, generously relinquishing their skirmish that he would most assuredly have won. “And she’s lovely isn’t she, Caerrovon’s mother?”

 

“Yes. How’s the mould coming?”

 

“It’s very good! This is quality carving, in perfect condition, no cracks or rough spots.”

 

“These people are wonderful with wood. You must come and visit.”

 

“Nicer than the beige disaster?”

 

“Million times. But the people are nice in both places.”

 

“Anyone ever told you you’re too nice?”

 

“Lots. But not when they gain an advantage from it!”

 

“Typical human.”

 

“Like you’re not?”

 

“Not typical.”

 

“Sometimes wonder if you’re human!”

 

“Be nice. I’m helping you abduct Grandma.”

 

“That is true.

“I have the board. Tomorrow night, same time as I jumped to you…Steel time… could we check on the pigments, the ground-colours…oh.”

 

“Yes, oh. None of that equipment works, mon frère!”

 

“You think it’s enough like a Rembrandt to just go with the red-brown, yellow-ochre, brown overlays…? I have all the right colours, nice transparent ones for this…? Trouble is, the pigments just aren’t the same as Earth pigments. I could do a pretty good job, I’m sure, using the stuff I’m used to. I haven’t done any forgeries with these paints!”

 

“Hey, hey, Neal – you’re a brilliant artist, and you know these paints. Not perhaps as well as Earth ones, but well enough. And I know you have a thing about getting in, getting it done and getting out – which only applies to your forgeries, I am happily in a position to know - ”

 

_“Mozzie!”_

“Sorry, my mind drifted a little to our former conversation… you want this to be a magic trick, but you don’t have to do this over-night, or over a few nights! You can take your time. You can jump back here at any time…leave a love object. Do it right.”

 

Neal took a deep breath. He visibly relaxed. “You’re right, Moz. It would be fun to get it finished…”

 

“Do what you can and I’ll help all I can. Let’s put her back in her frame.”

 

“Oh…I guess I should have warned you before I got you involved. The Lord of Betchem…um…he’s an empath of much greater strength than Our Lord.”

 

Mozzie’s glasses flashed. _“What?”_

“Well, it’s not my fault. He’s the one who owns our Grandmother’s beautiful portrait. Which should be at Steel – or Laffaysham, but preferably at Steel, and since I’m stealing it, that’s where it’s going!”

 

“Are you out of your _mind?”_

 

“Not more than usual!”

 

“You hid from Caerrovon, it’s true, but you were _playing_ with him! There would have been no repercussions. Do you know what the laws are for theft on this planet?”

 

“Just the same as Earth – ‘only if you’re caught’. But yes, they’re a little scary. Sorry, Moz, you’re much more cautious than I am! You can pull out if you wish.”

 

“Now that I have a lovely mould for you! And it’s probably too late – how do you expect to fool this Lord, or were you just planning to go on the run on _this_ planet?”

 

“Might be fun!”

 

“No, it wouldn’t,” Mozzie grumbled. “I have no safe-houses, nothing set up. Again – with more emphasis – **_a little warning, Neal!_** ”

 

“We could just jump to Earth?”

 

“A couple of problems you, my over-excitable friend, are not seeing. Probably, since we – you – we – are the heirs to Steel, Lord Steel would have to make recompense to Lord Betchem. It’s not as though he could take Betchem on, it’s huge compared to Steel. And you are forgetting that Caerrovon knows how to jump and he loves us – even though he might be furious with us – and therefore he can follow us wherever we go!”

 

“He never has jumped,” Neal said, subdued. “He might not.”

 

“Did you not think this through?”

 

“Um – well, I was trying to put something right.”

 

“Um – I’m not sure anyone else would see it that way.”

 

“You sound like Peter.”

 

_“Neal Caffrey!”_

 

“Sorry, sorry! No, I didn’t see the whole ‘responsibility of the Lord of the Keep’ thing.”

 

“You could just abort. We have a lovely mould. You could just do a reproduction, sign it with your name. No harm, no foul.”

 

Neal scowled. _Sometimes,_ thought Mozzie, _he really is like a wild little boy!_

“I could. No fun at all.”

 

“Could you at least consider it? For me? I don’t want to be jumping round the Universe followed by a man who is someone I love and who is also the winner of whatever they call their fighting competition! I have Sally, now.”

 

“I never thought _you_ would be the one to settle down!”

 

“That’s just being mean, and you know it!”

 

“Sorry, Moz. That was mean. I’ll consider it. You’re right – I’m putting you and our Lord at risk. And he doesn’t even know it’s happening! I think he’d be pleased, though, if no-one knew. Well, no-one else!”

 

“And you have no plan for hiding this from Lord Betchem.”

 

“Not exactly, no. I hoped to confuse him.”

 

“Yeah…I think you should give this more thought!”

 

 

 

 

 

End of Chapter 15

 

 

 


	16. An Unscratchable Itch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Factors line up to cause Neal to abandon his Grandmother for a time, at least.
> 
> He meets up with a lot of old friends.

 

 

 

Neal spent quite a lot of hours the next day making little studies of various works in the gallery, little sketches and notes, and disappeared to sleep for a while. Unfortunately, Joster and Merritt were waiting for him in force when he went back.

 

“Master Neal – we know not where you keep going!” Joster tried.

 

“We will get into trouble if you are hurt or something terrible befalls you, Master Neal!” Merritt added. “Being fair to us you are not.”

 

Neal groaned. “I was just in the stables for part of the time, looking at art the other part, you two. A child I am not! Heavens, my Lord does not have Brak with him every hour of every day.”

 

“That may be true at Steel, Master Neal. But if he were here, Brak or someone would be with him.”

 

“I will wager that when he was an heir, always shackled about with people he was not!” Neal said, getting exasperated.

 

“Far worse, Master Neal, if in his own Keep he was not.”

 

“Well, just because I am heir to a Keep I will never inherit I am changing not! Lord Steel just made me his heir for the – your time – short while before he has children…”

 

“…because he loves you, Master Neal. Would you rather we be culpable for losing his heir, or the man he loves?”

 

Neal looked from one to the other. They looked determined, and he was beginning to look mulish!

 

“I would tell you what I am doing, but it would not be fair to you,” he said, eventually, which only made them look far more anxious and determined!

 

Merritt looked to his older brother, who said, “We are yours, Master Neal! You have to start trusting us, because we are here to guard your life!”

 

“Give me a bit of time, Joster, Merritt. I will consider what you have said.”

 

Neal sighed. This was all so much more complicated than he had thought it would be! He had never been worried about Mozzie before…but then, Mozzie had been set up on Earth for instant disappearances, safe-houses…and Mozzie had never been tied to anyone before with the possible exception (and Neal hadn’t at the time been aware of this) of _Neal_ _!_ Now Mozzie could lose Steel and a home and Sally…

_…and so could I!_ The thought came to Neal as something of a surprise. _When I was committing crimes, real crimes, on Earth, I didn’t have anything or anyone to lose. Not really. I wasn’t even aware of how much I loved Mozzie, and half the reason I committed those crimes was to catch Kate’s attention because I thought she’d be impressed, when she really wasn’t a great criminal, so why on Earth…?_

_If I’d just been aware of Mozzie, if I’d treated him as a close friend, I’d have never been caught, no prison, no anklet…and then no Lord Steel…how **complicated** things are!_

After dinner that evening, Neal tried to soothe his thoughts in the luxurious warm wooden bath and having, as a small show of defiance to his two men-in-waiting, cleaned the bathroom, he curled up in the kaross, excluding everyone.

 

_What was I thinking? And yet – that lovely lady should be at Steel! Will Lord Betchem be able to read me, and worse, will he be able to tell of Moz’s involvement? If it was just me, I’d go ahead. It’s fun! I’d like to see if I can fool Lord Betchem, Lord Betchem and his great empathy! What’s the point of living without challenges? These two nice boys following me about, trying to stop me taking any risks, stop me getting hurt! Grr!_

_There is something…I could go to Steel and ask to not be his heir any more. He’d be disappointed, but at least I’d get rid of these two._

_And if I did get caught, the whole child-thing would work in my favour and at worst I’d be thrashed. Not pleasant, but after the Slaver’s whips, I could endure that._

_(So long as Peter never knew!)_

\------------------------------–       _now why’d I think that!_

_Yeah, Peter would love to think I’d got my comeuppance for something! If he knew, he’d be there cheering on whoever was wielding the paddle, strap, cane – whatever…yeah, probably wouldn’t be a good experience, even without Peter…!_

_But you play the game, take the risks, you pay the price if you’re not good enough to win. That’s the way it works. There has to be a risk. Not permanent damage, not prison-time, I don’t think I could do **that** again. It wasn’t punishment, it was soul-destroying. Made me angry, made me want to hurt people. Made me not myself. Took a bit of time to get over that. Lucky I started out as a conman, not something more violent. I can’t imagine what they think it accomplishes, except to protect the public by locking us away. (If it hadn’t been for Peter, right at the beginning, and June and Moz, the love, well…things might have turned out differently. I might have turned out differently. It took a long while for that anger to go away. It cropped up against Fowler. Wow. I can still feel that, inside. It’s still there…)_

_But still…some pain for a little while and probably quite bad, but …yeah, I’ll take those odds…_

_But for Mozzie…no. I am not going to risk him being hurt or humiliated or anything! I’ve hurt Mozzie too much already. And he’s an adult. Worse consequences._

_So now – do I give up? That’s wimpy! I’m sure I can cover my trail…I want to at least **try** it! It’s a whole new level of challenge! _

_I know - I’ll just steal something else! Something else Moz has nothing to do with! — no, that’s ridiculous!. It’s no fun stealing something I don’t want, don’t even want to take and sell – I have no need of money and have no idea how I’d fence something here!_

_I wonder if anyone in the history of the…universe …has had this problem?_

He was just slipping off to sleep, exhausted from arguing with himself and denying himself a good night’s sleep for a while, when he became aware that Mozzie was trying to contact him. He sat up and put the ear-bug into his ear, and Mozzie said,

 

(Neal. Please come here if you can and it’s no problem? I’m in Italy – and it’s safe! I have wine.)

 

Neal pulled the pillows under the kaross, squeezed them into place to look like his body at a casual glance, and jumped.

 

“Neal!” Mozzie said. “Want a robe or something?”

 

“Yeah. I had to just leave…my two guards would have wondered where I was going and tried to come after me!” Neal said, still irritated. He took the robe. “Thanks, Moz! Now – what did you need me for?”

 

“I – I realised how I sounded when we were in the gallery. I wanted to apologise. You’re right – I sounded like a Suit. It’s unforgiveable. Nauseating! When have we ever judged each other’s jobs by the dangers involved? When have we ever criticised each other?”

 

“As to the last – quite often!” Neal said, smiling and taking the glass of wine Mozzie held out to him. “I also realised a few things, Moz. And you were quite right. We never committed crimes – or very few – where we could be physically maimed.”

 

"Yes, we did! How can you say that? We stole two bottles of Heidsieck from that Ukranian mob boss, remember? He was furious! He was known to collect fingers in bottles! Lucky he had no idea who had done it! We liberated antiquities from several countries that had _**very**_ nasty laws...we risked Diyarbakir over some of those, and you remember the record of that place! In Syria, you forged that - "

 

Neal fended him off. “The horrors of a friend with a memory like yours! You’re right. But we had so little to lose, Moz.”

 

Moz looked at the firelight. “We had little to lose. Lives, limbs, freedom, health, sanity…but I hear what you’re saying.”

 

“And you know that there are quite a few American – well, prisons in the USA, sorry! - that are listed on the world’s worst prisons, including Riker’s and my own home-away-from-home, Sing Sing!

.............“I only had you, most of that time. Kate was gone, though I always had hopes to get her back. But there was only you.”

 

Mozzie looked back and smiled. _No-one can smile like Mozzie. Lucky I’m not in any way ‘inclined’…because now he has Sally – and Sally’s right!_

 

“I didn’t know you really felt that much for me, I was just a useful work-friend,” Moz said.

 

“I was very young and selfish and silly, and sometimes, in the heat of excitement about a painting, a ruby, a Ming vase, I did forget about how important you were to me. And you were quite right to remind me of the fact last night. I’ll give up my idea about bringing grandma home! She’s probably settled in at lovely Betchem, now.”

 

“I was going to tell you to go ahead, as always, we’d play the hand we’re dealt and do the best we can.”

 

“This is not ‘the hand we’re dealt’, is it, Moz? This is me forcing cards on you as though you were my mark! I’ll find some safer heist to pull.”

 

Mozzie looked at his young friend, lounging in a chair. “If you want to go ahead, I’m with you. If we need to run, we’ll find a way. Perhaps we need some more excitement! I am never – **never** – going to stand in the way of Neal Caffrey when he wants to do a job. Never! What kind of friend would I be?”

 

Neal smiled and said nothing while they finished their wine. “Thank you, Mozzie…and I’m sorry, Moz, I really need to catch up on my sleep. Thank you. I’ll go back now.”

 

“Let me know what’s happening.”

 

“Make a plaster frame, just to see, would you? Make several…it’s a lovely design, and well crafted.”

 

“I’ll do that. Good-night, Neal.”

 

 

 

 

Neal woke with a headache, something he seldom had to worry about. In fact, he was usually ridiculously healthy! He washed and had a drink of water, and soon the three of them were ready to go down to breakfast.

 

Before they got to the correct level, a slave gave him a message to go to Lord Betchem as soon as he could. Puzzled, he made his way to the dining area and Lord Betchem, who had been talking to his daughter, turned to him with a slightly anxious expression.

 

“Neal, son, a messenger came for you this morning, quite early. He tarried not but turned back immediately. He left this letter for you.”

 

Neal tore open the sealed and folded missive and Mozzie had written, in English,

 

 **YOU NEED TO GET BACK HERE (STEEL) ASAP. NO EMERGENCY, BUT DIANA IS READY TO GIVE BIRTH! WE COULDN’T JUST CALL YOU, YOU HAD TO HAVE A LOGICAL EXPLANATION FOR LEAVING…SO HERE’S A LOGICAL EXPLANATION**.

“Oh!” Neal exclaimed. “Lord Betchem, I am called home immediately. A dear friend of mine is there, about to be delivered of her first child!”

 

Lord Betchem smiled at his delight. “I am glad it is such good news! Come – eat - ”

 

“Oh, but - ”

 

“No, Neal, a candlemark will make no difference, you need to eat, son! I have had a basket of food made up for you and your men, your horses are being readied – I felt sure you were being called home.

“By the by, you will probably come upon the messenger as you go, it seems he was a very small man in too-large Steel livery who was apparently on foot! I assume he left his horse a small way away…it seems odd!”

 

Neal grinned to himself! Mozzie!

 

Lord Betchem went on, “Hurried messages are rare, except in times of war! Usually they contain bad news. I am glad this is not so!”

 

Neal couldn’t tell him – especially in the crowded dining-room – that he could just as well eat breakfast at Steel. He wasn’t sure if his Lord had told Lord Betchem of their ability to translate. He tried to eat quickly without seeming to, and Lady Betchem smiled at him. “This companion must be a very good friend, Neal.”

 

Neal nodded. “I think if one shares dangerous experiences and someone saves your life, not once but many times, a bond develops that nothing can easily break.”

 

“But this is a woman?”

 

“I think the bravest, most skilled fighter I knew on Earth, when I was there. We worked together. I had to trust her with my life, my future, my safety on occasion.” Neal had a flash of memory: fleeing as fast as he could, his chest beginning to burn painfully, his feet pounding jarringly on hot asphalt, echoing off concrete walls, a pack of OPR wolves gaining on him, his hope vanishing – and then Diana, against all odds and against the law, appearing like some gorgeous angel in a black chariot… he smiled at the memory.

 

“You will see her soon, Neal. She will probably be holding her baby when you arrive, wearing that smile that only new mother’s can,” Lord Betchem said, looking across at his wife.

 

Neal was suddenly pleased that he hadn’t yet managed to steal Caerralissia. This was really a good family…and they had given his father a good childhood!

 

As soon as courtesy allowed, Neal stood and asked to be excused so that he might go.

 

Lord and Lady Betchem, Ambreth as well as Ethlan and Floretha stood and came a little way from the table. Ambreth slapped his shoulder, smiled and said, “I am glad to have met you, Neal, son of Steel. Tell your father that I beg his forgiveness for any time we teased him, long ago, before he was a champion fighter!”

 

Floretha gave him a hug and a kiss and said, “We now have another ‘baby brother’ from Steel! Give our love to Caerrovon and tell him to visit as soon as he may and to bring you and your brother with him!”

 

Ethlan hugged him, too, and agreed. “Tell Lord Steel that I am waiting for him to visit as he promised…oh,many winters ago, now! Do I have to take a wife before he makes the effort?”

 

Neal was very touched by their kindness. Lord and Lady Betchem hugged him tightly and the Lord told him, “My almost- adopted son, Caerrovon Steel, is a wonderful man, and obviously has enough of the Laffay gift to choose his heirs well. I am so glad to have met you, Neal!”

 

Lady Betchem said, “Please, Betchem Keep is always open to you and your father. Come and visit us any time!”

 

“I will do that as soon as I may, Lord and Lady – and Ambreth, Floretha and Ethlan! You have a lovely, inviting Keep and it has warmed your hearts, for I have seldom felt as welcome anywhere. I am sorry to be leaving so suddenly.”

 

The others went back to their cooling breakfasts, but Ethlan walked with him to the inner gates, where Joster and Merritt, their horses and wagon and gear were all waiting. Ethlan gave him a leg-up onto his horse and patted his thigh. “Thank you for coming. It is good to know you. There was much speculation when my friend took off-worlders for his kin and heirs, ahead of perhaps someone from this world.”

 

Neal felt a little awkward. “Jarad was his heir, and is still in the line of succession, but Jarad, I hear, has no real wish to reign.”

 

“A couple of my siblings thought he could have at least offered the position to me. We have always been very close, he says I make him laugh, we trust each other. But he knows, if no one else does, that it would be a burden to me.”

 

“You are wise, Ethlan. It is far more of a burden than I anticipated…but you already have a father, a family! In exchange for Caerrovon as my Lord and father, forever, it seems worth it. Partly because he is very lenient and generous with us!”

 

“You must go! Thank you for coming to see us.”

 

Ethlan waved them off and Neal pushed his men and the horses till they were over the next rise and into the trough that followed. “Now, you ask me to trust you, Joster and Merritt?”

 

“Why, yes, Master Neal!”

 

“And both of you know that some of the Earthlings, as well as Tammy, have moved through space to my home planet Earth and back?”

 

“Yes, Master, though we understand it not.”

 

“It is of no matter. I, too, understand it not. But would you mind riding back, taking the wagon, so that I can go back in that same mysterious way?”

 

They looked at each other and nodded a little dubiously. “I am going to Steel Keep. I will be safe,” Neal insisted. “My friend is going to have a baby and I want to be there as soon as possible!”

 

They smiled at him. “Of course, Master Neal. We trust that you are going to Steel. We will follow in good time.”

 

“I will go into the wagon, in case anyone is watching!”

 

 

 

Neal bounced into the Greatroom, and it seemed crowded with people! Steel and Mozzie came up immediately and hugged him. “You left your guards and jumped! That is good!” Steel said.

 

“Not sure they liked it. They feel they should be my constant shadows, my Lord! How do you stand it? How is Diana?”

 

“I am right here!” Diana said behind him, and he swung around and gave her a gentle hug.

 

Then he stood back. “But Diana…firstly, should you not have given birth a while back? I know the time changes muddle me, but - And – and you hardly look pregnant at all… perhaps three or four months?”

 

“It was a trick, so she could remain on active duty!” Peter said, coming up with El, a big smile all over his face as he looked at Diana.

 

“Apparently it is because of Tammy, and Lira’s help! I know not, Caffrey! All I know is, I swelled not – thank God! – and the months went past and Tammy seemed not worried and then – earlier – I know not what time, but it was early morning here, Tammy said, ‘He is getting ready to be born.’ So we came here.”

 

“No labour pains, nothing yet?” Neal asked.

 

“Nope! Lira is here, somewhere, looking very happy. She says everything is fine! I am just glad I am not stuck in some Earth hospital. This is more like a party!”

 

“And sadly, that is fruit juice she is drinking,” Mozzie said. “It seems unnatural to me!”

 

“You want my baby to be drunk on coming into the world?” Diana teased him.

 

“Not here – but on Earth, especially before the shake-up, it was the only way to view the world, if at all possible!” Mozzie insisted, seriously, and Diana laughed and kissed him.

 

“I brought you this,” Mozzie said, holding out his Teddy Bear, a new blue ribbon tied round his neck. “He is clean, though a little ragged. He was the only thing I could think of giving you, Diana, that you might want. This is Mozart and he kept me sane when I was little. I know your little tyke is not going to be all alone – far from it! – but it is always nice to have something warm and soft to cuddle.”

 

Neal was astonished, knowing what that bear meant to Moz. To his surprise Diana obviously knew the story, Mozzie must have told her at some time. She said, “Take Mozart from you I can not, Mozzie! – though I am very honoured that you offer him to me!”

 

“Your baby will like him, I believe. Trust me, he carries no germs! And I have a family now and need him not any more.”

 

Diana hugged Mozzie tightly. “Thank you, Moz. We will take care of him, and if he survives another growing boy, he can always come back to you later!”

 

“Now wait - I rushed back here! How do you know when the baby is going to come?” Neal asked.

 

Lira was suddenly behind him and put her arms round his shoulders. “The boy child will be born tomorrow morning,” she said.

 

“B-but…” Neal started.

  
Mozzie waved his hands. “I am sorry, Neal – I knew not that baby-delivering was so different here! I have not had that much to do with the process on Earth, but from all accounts the child can be very unreliable!”

 

“This baby is contented and not at all unreliable,” Lira laughed. “You will see.”

 

“He is the happiest baby I have ever heard!” Tammy agreed, putting her arms protectively around Diana.

 

“You can hear him already?” El asked, delightedly.

 

“So can I!” said Diana. “It is amazing!”

 

“And Diana, you are speaking Sheel!” Neal exclaimed. “I realised it not until this time!

 

“You are not the only brilliant Earthling, Neal!” Diana teased. “It was only fair! Tammy knows some English, I know some Sheel! Not very much, and I speak badly, but I am learning!”

 

“English is much harder. There are more things that do not fit the rule than that do!” Tammy complained. “And we met some people from England, and they speak not the same at all! But I am told they speak English, from England. But then why do the Americans not speak …Americkish?”

 

Mozzie smiled. “It is true. And many of the people from England would tell you that Americans only speak a form of English…but all over England the accent and the…colloquialisms differ greatly.”

 

June was there, and she and Neal shared a long hug!

 

 _She is so important to me!_ Neal thought.

 

“Come and talk to me tomorrow, Neal, after the baby is born! Isn’t it exciting! I am going to go and help Ophera with the feast!”

 

Peter and El came over to Neal. The meeting was awkward, but they all put up a good front. “Hi, Neal. How are you doing, with this whole heir thing?”

 

“Hi, Peter, El. It’s harder than you’d think! I’ve just been visiting our sister Keeps. It is less complex than Earth, especially how Earth was, but – but it is nicer. It’s more personal.”

 

“You’re happy?”

 

“Yeah, Peter, I’m very happy.”

 

“I’m glad.” They moved off, somewhat to Neal’s relief. Steel came over and said, “So, how did you like Betchem?”

 

“It is stunningly beautiful – and huge, my Lord! I could hardly believe it! You never told me that!”

 

“You spoke to Ethlan?”

 

“He made himself responsible for me, taking me about the Keep and stopping me from becoming lost! I really like your friend!”

 

“And you got on well with Lord Betchem?”

 

“Why, yes. Extremely well, actually. He speaks of you as his ‘almost adopted son’, and his children as though you are one of them. The Lord must be a very intuitive man, for he liked me immensely! I must somehow have given him a good impression, he and Lady Betchem invited me back at any time…and begged me to try and bring you with me, my Lord!”

 

Steel smiled down at him. “He is indeed intuitive, Neal – or, son, perhaps you ‘conned’ him?”

 

“I may have done, my Lord. It comes naturally to me.

         “And those trees! How beautiful they are! You told me not about the trees. They are like part of the family.”

 

“I had not thought of it that way, but you have said truly, Neal!”

 

Neal smiled to himself as Steel left, called away by Brak. _He wanted me to get caught by Lord Betchem in some mischief! Now he doesn’t know that **I** know about that Lord’s ability. _

 

It was a pleasant time, everyone catching up and doing the basic housework…other than Diana, the guest of honour. Neal was happy and contented amongst his friends, but his mind kept wandering to the painting.

 

_I had forgotten the …lust… that comes from an unrequited heist. An itch that requires scratching! I have never quite felt that about a woman, a human, flesh-and-blood woman. Perhaps because they’re much less trouble to attain…_

 

Neal felt his thoughts snag. Was he that…sure of himself?

 

 _Yeah, I guess I am. After all, has there been a woman I seriously wanted that I couldn’t get – at least when I had the time? Except Aramalitha, and it doesn’t feel like that…it’s not sexual. Not primarily. And I_ don’t _want her, because of what I would do to her._

Neal felt an overwhelming sadness, but pushed it under.

 

 _Whereas with a statue, a painting, an etching – there is the owner, the police, the security systems, all trying to keep her, isolate her, control her, like an over-possessive husband…and me just picking the object of my desires right out from under their defences with soft, light, deft fingers and eloping with her…mmhmm!…and now Lord Betchem and his spooky mind-reading thing…! I **want**_ _that beautiful lady, and I don’t care that she’s my grandmother-by-adoption, she’s wearing_ very _well!_ He groaned to himself. _At least if I had a sexual partner I could release some of this energy!_

 

Eventually, after an early supper, Lira told Diana she should rest a little as the next day would be tiring for the baby, and she and Tammy went off to Tammy’s rooms.

 

The crowd dissipated, going off to the rooms assigned to them. Mozzie, Peter and Neal were left sitting drinking wine and ale, not talking much.

 

“So much has happened, hasn’t it?” Peter asked at last, a little worse for wear. “Who woulda thought, Neal, at the airport when you said it was a dance, and the hat…that aaa-all these years later Di would be having a baby by an alien woman.”

 

The three of them contemplated his comment. It didn’t really sound right.

 

But eventually Neal nodded, decisively. “Yes, she is. And here we are on an alien planet and we came here and none of us know how we got here. This time, I mean. Not the horrid spaceship time.”

 

“Yes!” Peter nodded, waving a mug at Neal in emphasis, his brows furrowed. “We came here volun – volun – we came here. We wanted to.”

 

“And the wine is very tolerable!” Mozzie put in, looking deep into the fire.

 

“Peeter is a little more than a little drunk,” Neal told Mozzie.

 

Peter considered for a long moment. “Yes. I am. But my best used-to-be-probie, now right-hand-man-only-she’s-a-female is going to hava baby. I’ma grandpa. A professional grandpa, but a grandpa. Well, soon. I will be those things I said, soon. It deserves a drink or two.”

 

“I agree. Here’s to Diana and Tammy!” Neal said. It was not the first time they’d drunk that toast.

 

“And Theo,” Mozzie added, this time.

 

“Theo?”

 

“ ** _SHHHHHH!”_** Mozzie said. “Not so loud.”

 

Neal obligingly whispered, making Peter lean in close, which made his head spin more than he liked. “But who the heck is Theo?”

 

“Baby. But you can’t tell him - ” Mozzie pointed a finger at Peter, " -  why.”

 

“That’s going to be easy, Moz – I don’t know why!”

 

“Good. Then you can’t tell him! He’s still a Suit, you know.”

 

“Well, sort of, Moz,” Neal grinned.

 

“No, no, no, no – he’s One of Them. We’re One of Us. We-ell… we’re Two of Us? Anyway, we are def’nitly _not_ Two of Them.”

 

“You’re probably right, Moz,” Neal nodded, and smiled apologetically to Peter about his very drunk friend. But Mozzie couldn’t be drunk. Someone could have drugged him with some potent new something, but Moz never got drunk, though he pretended to be drunk very convincingly. Neal just wasn’t quite sure why he was doing so now, especially when the ‘One of Them’ was quite drunk enough for all three of them!

 

Elizabeth appeared in her robe. “Why am I not surprised to find you three here, drinking?”

 

“Hello, Elizabeth,” Neal said with a smile. He knew he shouldn’t be friendly to her, but what with the lack of sleep over many days and just enough alcohol to try and ease his criminal itch, he couldn’t quite remember why. No-one could accuse him of being drunk, but he was very, very tired.

 

“Hi, Hon!”

 

“Hallo, Mrs Suit!” Mozzie said in a friendly manner, leaning back to get a look at her. “In all honesty, do you consider yourself One of Them or One of Us.”

 

“Mozzie, dear,” she said, kissing his forehead. “I consider myself the only sane adult in the room and I am going to bed, having tried to get my husband to join me.”

 

“Bed! Now there’s an idea! A good idea! I’m good in bed!” Peter told the company in general.

 

“Yeah, I have my doubts about that this particular night, but I am willing to be proven wrong…after you brush your teeth, Hon!” El took Peter’s arm, Neal helped him up and they left together.

 

“Now what was that performance about?” Neal asked Mozzie, sitting. “And who is Theo?”

 

“Oh, just practice. As you say, we’ve been good for so long! I just felt like being drunk.”

 

“And since there isn’t enough alcohol in the universe to actually accomplish that, you had to pretend?”

 

“Yeah.

...........“ _You_ can get drunk. I’ve seen you, in your youth. Cute and stupid when you first appeared, not so much in the morning. Not so much cute…you looked even more stupid!”

 

“I remember. I remember that. Much chastened is what I looked in the morning! I don’t think, if I steal his painting and he catches me, that Lord Betchem can threaten me with anything even close to what you looked like you were going to do to me that night! That look sobered me right up – frightened me up – enough to get to bed. I hadn’t realised till that exact point in our partnership that you were not opposed to violence in certain forms!”

 

“And I only gave you that handful of vitamins and fruit juice the next morning and turned off the 1812 after you promised me you’d never get drunk again. Or drugged with any mind-altering, mind-dulling drug!

..........."A criminal, a man who actually qualified to be mentored by _me_ , who might at any moment have to jump out of a window, talk his way out of an arrest or dodge a bullet - drunk! _Stupid_ kid!”

 

“And, Moz, I never have. Well – not intentionally. Only forced, like at that awful clinic. I do have a hard head, though. NOT like yours, I admit, but I surprise people.”

 

“They thought – The Suit thought – you were right out of it, yes?”

 

“Yeah. I told him that I trusted him more than anyone in the whole, wide world!”

 

“That is always a good line. Good choice.”

 

“Yeah. Softened him up. Now who is Theo.”

 

“Diana and I have been spending quite a bit of time together. You’ve been off gallivanting, Sally found a friend she thought she’d lost and went several times to England to visit…I took her, you understand.    

“Tammy had to be here, and Diana took some time off work. She’s far and away the best Suit." Mozzie paused, honestly, "Well…I shouldn’t make that statement. I have only a limited knowledge of the species at an individual level, thankfully. You did me a huge disservice by getting me involved with any at all…but she’s by far the best. I guess the bromide is proven…exception to every rule. ‘Good Suit’ – what a concept!”

 

“She is much more out of the box. Saved my life, saved my soul, did Diana, when that evil Spook from DC was after me!”

 

“I knew that. One of the reasons I went and took her home-made soup. Soup for the Suit! And organic salads.”

 

“Yes…and I am no closer to knowing who Theo is.”

 

“She’s going to name her baby Theo.”

 

Neal wondered if he was asleep and having some sort of nightmare, and if it was worth continuing this line of inquiry. He could perhaps hijack the dream and use it to work out how to fool Lord Betchem…

 

“I think that was me.”

 

“Who, Mozzie?”

 

“Who, who? – I mean - ”

 

“Who do you think was you?”

 

Neal checked his inner me. No, no less nightmare-ish.

 

“When I went through all the unconnected birth certificates of my time of birth in Detroit…no children of that name in school, etc, etc, and narrowed it down by race and stuff, the only one that could have been me was Theodore Winters.”

 

“Oh!” Neal looked hard at Mozzie. This seemed important to him, more than Neal could understand.

 

“But you can be anyone!”

 

Mozzie smiled and nodded. “Oh, I know. Now it seems silly. But at the time, when I was a teenager, I was really wanting to just find something to cling to, something that might be mine. Of course, it is far more likely that there was no birth record, no-one registered me.

...........“I asked Mr Jeffreys, and he said the Home doesn’t, in case the parents already have! And I might not even have been born in Detroit! And I’d far rather not have any name in the system at all, which is probably the case!

“But I always felt a strange affinity to this Theo Winters…no-one exists in the States, of the right age, of that name. It could be me. Or that poor mite might have died or something. Been still-born.”

 

“Or been abducted by royal Russian spies!” Neal agreed, innocently.

 

Mozzie glared at him.

 

“Or aliens!” Neal went on. “It’s not inconceivable! We were, after all!”

 

“ _You_ were. I was a hero and came to help!”

 

Neal yawned hugely. “I should go to bed. I feel too tired to go to bed.” Then he refocused, with an effort, realising that the question hadn’t been resolved. “But why is Diana going to call _her_ baby Theo?”

 

“I explained it all to her. Doesn’t put me at risk. My primary alias - basic bank accounts, that stuff - in the States is a woman, not Theo Winters, that would be silly. If I traced it…the possibility of it…so could someone else.”

 

“Go on…”

 

“But it could have been me, or a baby that never grew up. And it means ‘gift of God’, you know. Nice energy. She said someone should have that name, someone with a loving family, if Tammy agreed, and she was fine with it. Diana seemed to understand. She understood that somehow it makes me feel that I grew up with a loving family.”

 

“Oh, Moz. You have a loving family now!”

 

“Yeah. But this will mean that the little boy I was, odd as I was, will have been loved, too.”

 

“I must be drunker, or more tired than I thought, or have more Irish in me than I thought, because that actually makes sense to me!”

 

They stayed quiet a while, then Mozzie sat up, poured himself the last of the wine and asked, “Are you going to save Grandma?”

 

“Probably not. Too complicated. To many people and too much to lose.” Neal was careful not to whine.

 

“I’m still game if you are. Seriously! I should never have said anything. I’m sorry, Neal!”

 

“Me, too. And I don’t even have a woman. Damn! I s’ppose you’re going back to Sally?”

 

“Yeah. Time to go and – well, time to go. See you tomorrow?” Mozzie drained his glass without swallowing.

 

“Ask Sally if she’s got a sister. A nice sister!”

 

Mozzie squeezed Neal’s shoulder sympathetically and disappeared.

 

“Damn it all!” Neal said.

 

 

 

 

 

 

End of Chapter 16

 

Thank you to all my faithful, interesting and valuable readers - and very, very communicative! 'Specially some of you!

 

 

 


	17. The Opinions of Others

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal speaks to those he trusts most about his addiction and whether it could, or should, be cured.

 

 

 

Neal wandered down the quiet corridors all alone till he came to his ‘gallery’. He looked at all the paintings, one by one.

 

_If these were someone else’s, I’d like them. I’ve stolen stuff waaaaay worse than these. Put my life at risk…Yes, I have. Oh, I should try and go to sleep._

About two candle-mark’s later, Neal became aware of something…someone…he forced his eyes open and it was Lira, standing watching him sleep. His face was on something hard and flat and his shoulder hurt. He groaned and tried to sit up. He was lying on one of the benches set for people to look at his paintings.

 

“Lira?” he asked, and she took his elbow and he managed to sit straight. “What are you – what am _I…?”_

 

“I do not think you are comfortable, Neal,” she said.

 

“No, I wanted to go to bed but – it is silly, Lira.

.........“Do you not ever sleep?”

 

“I meditate, you would call it, or rest, but I am seldom in a state of pain, disease or stress, so seldom needing sleep as you humans know sleep.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“And I did not mean your physical state, Neal.”

 

“Oh?”

 

“What is bothering you?”

 

Neal straightened his clothing. Lira sat next to him. He said, “You…experienced, through Mozzie, the joy when we had a great plan and stole something successfully.”

 

Lira smiled. “Yes. I particularly enjoyed the time you had few resources and were chased by the dogs and private hit-men - ?- I have that correctly?”

 

“The diamonds! It was a very good haul, and better because the men we stole them from had already stolen them, so alert the authorities they could not!” Neal’s bright grin made Lira happy as she saw the same theft through _his_ emotions. “Well, sweet Lira, I want to steal something now, and I can not and I feel frustrated!”

 

“Would you like to tell me?”

 

“If you never tell anyone!”

 

“It is understood, Neal.”

 

“Well, there is this lovely painting of my Lord’s mother, but it is at Betchem and it should be here, with him! And you know, before – before being abducted and coming here, I had no-one to worry about. Moz and I were often partners, but neither of us had anyone else. And now, if we are caught I would hurt Mozzie and my Lord Steel and Sally and it all feels different and no fun!

.........“Who am I, _what_ am I, dear Lira, that I cannot have fun without stealing or forging or fooling someone?”

 

“How do other Earthlings have fun?” Lira asked.

 

“I have no idea! I mean, they sit and watch…well they did…sit and watch moving pictures on a screen, and they still do – plays? Like that. Or other people running after some ball or another. Or sometimes they run after a ball themselves. But they never get to keep it. And there are a lot of rules. They do not make it up as they go along, as we do. We plan, but often have to improvise! And their rules and the game are always the same. Ours are always different!”

         Neal thought a moment. “Some people get their excitement from paying a lot of money to get dragged to the top of a snowy hill…I do not know how, now, without machines, but they used to. I will bet they still manage to find a way, I guess pulleys or dogs – something!…then they strap some wooden planks to their feet and slide down very fast – skiing it is called. It can be a little dangerous. Then they get pulled up the hill again – up and down, up and down, with the odd detour to a hospital. It is expensive and seems to get nowhere, if you discount the hospitals! They end up poorer than they began.”

 

“You find no joy in going up and down snowy hills?”

 

“Not in and of itself! I know how to ski – you understand – and I sometimes do it intensively as training! There was a castle in Austria where I exited the area at night by skis, with a set of extremely valuable negotiable bonds under my jacket! The skiing was dangerous enough, for though the snow makes it lighter, easier to see, I knew not the terrain very well, buried tree stumps and rocks - and I wanted an almost moonless night because the guards were shooting at me! Those normal skiers know not excitement – you can not until the wind in your hair and ears, the swish of the snow, contests with the bullets hissing by and plunging into the snow as you pass! That is excitement! And eight point five million dollars in negotiable paper, knowing that Mozzie is waiting with a – a – vehicle for travelling very fast through the snow - is just icing! A bonus!”

 

He sighed sadly. “And now, though I have striven to retain my joy in life, and though I love Mozzie and Steel and you and everyone, I feel as though I am being forced to give it all up! Or choose between my two loves – the people, and the excitement. And I have not a girl to even further complicate my life!”

 

He turned to her. “Why can I not grow up and be like other people, Lira?”

 

“Because you do not want to, Neal?”

 

“Can you fix me? Heal me?” he asked, dismally.

 

She laughed and hugged him to her side. “I certainly could not do something that you very obviously do not want me to do!”

 

“Yes, but after you had healed me, I would not know what I was missing, would I? I would be contented. Oh, Great Creator, I feel nauseous! But – but - I would fit in!”

 

“You do not want to be contented?”

 

“No! No, of course not! People who say they are contented have settled for something less than joy, excitement, delight!”

 

“But you were put in a cage, yes, in return for your excitement?”

 

“Yes, – but I failed! I was tricked by Peter and listened not to Mozzie. And those are the risks. So in return for the high – the joy, the excitement, the riches, the success, well, we risk the sadness, the fear, the loneliness, the small cage and nothing. It seems a fair …a fair exchange.

..........“But Lira, obviously I am somehow flawed. Most people commit crimes to make money. Well, my type of crime! Then they stop. Even Mozzie seems…happy with the way things are. We will never want for money or wealth again. And perhaps if I had found a special woman, as he has, I would be too, for a time. But not forever.

..........“Would you heal me, Lira?”

 

“What does Caerrovon say about this wish of yours?”

 

“About wanting to steal his mother! Lira! He knows nothing! He would be horrified, angry with me! Furious, even! He counts Betchem as another home, they were very good to him – and they are nice, they were kind to me. But if I told him, I would be punished and not even have the fun of trying to steal it first!”

 

“Neal, Neal, dear! – I just meant what would he say about the desire of yours to be healed of the wish to steal things, not the specifics!”

 

“Oh. I have told him not. I could, though. I can shield against my Lord. It is Lord Betchem, with his much greater gift, that is the challenge!”

 

“I see!” she laughed. “And merely lying to him about the weather or something other than stealing does not give you the challenge?”

 

“No,” Neal wrinkled his nose a little. He sighed. “That is like going up and down the hills.”

 

Lira smiled at him. “You are an unusual man, Neal.”

 

“Well, that is probably just as well…if most people were like me, we would spend all of our time stealing stuff from each other!”

He laughed, it didn’t sound that bad! In fact, that would be an even more exciting game than stealing from ordinary people! _Imagine the problems with provenance! There is so much confusion about good forgeries already on Earth!_

 

_The problem with me is, I would like my life to be a non-violent video game! And now there are no such things as video games!_

“You are tired, my Neal?” Lira said, softly, singingly. “Let me sing for you a while. You should sleep, but this will help.”

 

“And Lira, you _could_ heal me, could you not?”

 

“I could. If you wish me to, truly, I will, Neal.”

 

Steel was woken by a feeling that someone was wanting him…not as strong as Tammy or Shiral calling… he went to the door of his suite and opened it. There, looking uncharacteristically raggedy, untidy and weary, drooped his youngest heir.

 

“Neal! What are you doing here and at this time of night?”

 

“I need to speak to you, my Lord, if it is not too inconvenient to you.”

 

“Come in. Do you need food or drink? Where have you been?”

 

He walked Neal to his bed and sat him down. Neal answered, “No, I am not hungry or thirsty and I wandered and looked at my paintings and slept a little and spoke to Lira…”

 

“You are unhappy! How did I not see this earlier?”

 

“No, I was happy with Diana and all my friends, seeing you and Mozzie and June.”

 

“Then what has happened?”

 

“Nothing new. It is an old problem. I spoke to Lira. I should speak to you, but not about specifics.” _Oh, I am tired! Got to think! Not say the wrong thing._

 

“Not about specifics?”

 

“Lord, I am thief! No, no, do not get upset! It is not a lie. I have realised this very plainly. I am – I think I’ve always been – a thief. I am not a thief because I need to be, I enjoy it. Not stealing everything, or all the time, but I enjoy running cons, pulling heists, using my brains and my body and doing bad things. I like not hurting people, I take not a millionaire’s last million or a pauper’s last loaf of bread. Not that a pauper has anything I would steal,” he added, in the spirit of it not being a lie.

 

“I know all this, Neal.”

 

“Except his freedom. Sometimes the homeless are free in ways that – never mind!”

 

“You have been drinking?” Steel asked, cautiously.

 

“No, not enough.”

 

“You woke me in the middle of the night, came to tell me you are a thief, but drunk you are not?”

 

“Yes. I am not. I am merely tired and stupid from it. But – but stop, Lord, I can not. And if I wish to continue, I will have to resign – or whatever the word is – abdicate? – from being your heir, even being your son. Draw you and Steel Keep and all her people into my crimes I can not. Someone pointed out that you would be responsible. Even if I went back to being your slave. I would have to leave you altogether, my Lord.

         “So I asked Lira if she can heal me. She says she can. But she said I should speak to you, first.”

 

“Heal you from being a thief?” Steel confirmed, keeping his expression solemn.

 

“Yes.”

 

“Are you not too tired for this decision?”

 

“I am too weary to put it off, Lord. You understand not …well, perhaps you do. When you know there are some Slavers who steal innocent people, take children and train them as sex slaves or take women from their families to be sold to the highest bidder… let it be you cannot , can you? It takes over your mind, until you do what you can to stop them, you are a slave to that desire…am I correct?”

 

Steel nodded, slowly. “Yes, my son.”

 

“But what you do is good. Noble, Praiseworthy. What I am addicted to is wrong, evil, horrible. It feels not like that to _me_ , but it must to others, because there are laws against it…and if there were not those laws, it would have no appeal to me! Oh, my Lord!”

 

“What I do is illegal, Neal.”

 

“But it is good. Anyone who knows and accepts what you know and accept would agree. The laws have not caught up with your ideals, that is all. The laws are never going to catch up to my ideal of the perfect crime…even though the law-makers might catch up to _me!”_

Steel looked at him. He saw the physical tiredness, the emotional strain.

 

Neal went on, painfully, “I would also have to give up Mozzie…he has you, and Sally. He is an adult, and eventually, at some point, people would start thinking of me as an adult, and your laws are harsh. But for me, that would not be a deciding factor. But I could not drag you and Mozzie into my ‘sprees’ – even the word sounds fun, does it not? – and if I have to give up you and Mozzie and my home here or give up stealing and conning, I must give up the latter.

..........“But I have tried. For a time I was busy and out-of-breath with new things to do. But when I see something I want, it is like your Slavers. It is like an itch, a desire, a lust.

..........“Please, Lord, tell me what to do?”

 

Steel smiled. “You are always finding yourself torn between people, or between life-choices, or both. And you ask me to decide? I can not, Neal. A child you are not, you are a man, and this seems a very drastic decision. But what… _oh.”_

 

“Oh, my Lord? You have a solution?” Neal lifted his head wearily, a spark of hope in his eyes.

 

“No, Neal, my son, I have a revelation! You were recently at Betchem and, being an artist, they showed you the gallery, did they not?”

 

“Yes, my Lord,” Neal answered, checking that his shields were strong despite the sleepiness.

 

“And you saw the beautiful portrait of our mother.”

 

“Yes, my Lord?”

 

“No, no, put not that questioning tone in your voice! You wish to steal the most valuable painting at Betchem – one of the most valuable modern paintings in existence - from Lord Betchem! And let me guess, you somehow divined that he is an exceedingly strong empath, far my superior, and that just added to your desire to outwit him!”

 

Neal turned to him with amazement, and saw Steel’s broad grin. “B-but - ?”

 

“You see, you are not such a mystery to me, my son!”

 

“You could _read_ me, my Lord? Then I would have had no chance whatsoever against Lord Betchem!” His mouth drooped sadly. “I have failed, and not even started.”

 

“Neal, _read_ you I can not. You are excellent at shielding, it probably comes from your ‘conning’, I would believe. But I am beginning to understand you, and Mozzie.”

 

“Well, you see why I wanted her, my Lord – she is beautiful and the painting of her is a masterpiece beyond compare in my experience. And Lord Betchem punished you for being upset that she was there and not at her home – here, or at least at Laffaysham! – and so he deserves to lose her to you!”

Steel laughed so infectiously at the note of vindictiveness in his son’s voice that Neal couldn’t help smiling. “Son, her sister paid for that portrait. You do understand that? That is why she hangs in their gallery.”

 

“I would happily pay him, place gold in his vault – but I want to steal her, my Lord. And …it was pointed out to me that you would be drawn into the conflict if I failed and Lord Betchem found out. And risk that I cannot. Betchem is a mighty force.

         “So – would you mind if I asked Lira to fix me? Stop thinking about her I cannot!”

 

“The beating you would receive if caught deters you not?”

 

“Not much, my Lord. Even make me more careful it would not. I hate failing no matter what the exact consequences. It is a stain on my record. I _hate_ failing!”

 

“Oh, _dear!”_

“Yes. And the punishment is always after the fact, when undo the crime I can not, so it seems almost unrelated, unconnected. By the time I am to be punished, I have no way to put things right or change my mind, just to endure. It is just one of the things that sometimes happens almost at random to people like myself. Nonsensical, indeed, it seems.

...........“When I consider the repercussions…the jail and prison time, for example, and the bond forgery that they said caused it, they were seasons and seasons apart and I did not even fail at that forgery! Even Peter said it was magnificent, unparalleled! No-one else has ever managed it! Yet they put me away.

............“I cashed in a few too many all at once, to finance a long con we were running. We did not have much choice. We had to have the money and it should have paid off. Perhaps I was distracted by…a girl. Catch me because of my work he did not…he caught me because of my girl, and my stupidity about her.”

 

“You could perhaps consider the effect on your life when you are planning the cause of that effect? I think that is what the average person does.”

 

“Well, no. If you worry about every little thing that could go wrong, you would never do anything! People die in beds, asleep, because meteors fall on them! Or, even more often, trees! And worrying is bad for your immune system, and gives you wrinkles.

...........“And you must know that I do not consider myself average, my Lord.”

 

Steel looked at the ceiling. _Was_ Neal merely irresponsible, childish? Because he could accomplish so much and was so good at so many things! But he couldn’t understand retribution, it seemed! Or pretended he didn’t.

 

“No, Neal, in no way are you average! On that I think we can all agree.”

 

“I am sorry, my Lord. If I were ready, and it was only my skin at risk, I would do it this instant!” His eyes glowed and Steel shuddered a little at his passion.

 

“Neal, I like you as you are. If Lira, as you say, ‘repaired you’, would you not be changed, your excitement in life dimmed?”

 

“What use is my excitement, my delight, if it hurts those I love, or causes me to have to leave them? And I believe if she healed me, I would be as other men and not know what I was missing. You wanted her and you didn’t think of stealing her.”

 

“I was a very small boy, Neal! Even reach her I could not! And - I cannot imagine not wanting to get rid of Slavers who hurt innocents, I cannot imagine asking to be rid of that need.”

 

Neal shrugged. Steel looked down at him and carefully wrapped his son in one of the blankets and pulled him close. “I do not think you need to take such desperate action, Neal. You need to sleep. Son, I love you as you are, and you should know that. You do know that?”

 

“Yes, my Lord. But you would not love me if I kept putting you at odds with Lord Betchem, Lord Camber, Ethlan…”

 

“No, true that is not. I am not as Peter, loving you only if you conform to an ideal, in this case the Law. I would prefer you not to be too controversial, my son, but I will always love you. Why do you find that so hard to believe?”

 

“Everyone leaves.” Neal sounded totally exhausted.

 

“No, Neal. If you somehow cause me to lose my Keep and my friends and my land… leave you I will not.”

 

Neal peered up tiredly from under a flopping curl. “That is insane, my Lord.”

 

“Then we are insane together. Now go to sleep, Neal. I have you!”

 

Lord Steel was strong and easily pulled the already half-sleeping Neal, wrapped like a papoose, right onto the bed and got comfortable next to him. Within seconds, Neal was fast asleep. Steel watched the tension leave his son’s face, felt it leave his body and smiled a little, and then sighed. “I wish I had been there for your younger life, Neal,” he whispered, and kissed the forehead, finally smoothed, free of the worried frown, before dimming the lights to nothing and falling asleep himself.

 

 

 

 

 

End of Chapter 17

Again, thank you all for your input and discussions! Love them! 'Nother chapter soon!


	18. And then there was...Theo

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steel and Neal share some bonding moments, Theo arrives at Steel Keep, Steel is disgusted and Peter has an idea.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next morning Neal woke and groaned. He wondered blearily where he was! He hadn’t usually had the traditional problem of waking up in a bed he didn’t remember entering: he didn’t get drunk and he seldom indulged in casual sex, and especially not in the woman’s own bed! Too many possible dangers and complications in an already …interesting…life! He struggled, feeling a little trapped and Steel said, “Good morning. Still tired?”

 

Neal blinked up at the fully-dressed Lord and said, “I slept…I was over-tired and I know this happens: I sleep so deeply that I move not during the night, or that is what I think happens, and then I am stiff when I wake!” He freed himself from the bedding, got up and used the Lord’s bathroom, washed his face and grimaced at the stubble. One of the luxurious things about having a manservant was that hot-towel, lathered perfectly- honed cut-throat-razor shave while he relaxed!

 

_I am getting so spoilt! Now they are absent, I shall return to doing things myself! I should not become reliant on this easy life my Lord has given me. I may have to give it up at any moment. Go-bag with disposables - must go back to always being ready to run! Or jump…out of windows, across universes…!_

When he went through, the Lord said, “Lie face down on the bed, Neal, I will try and loosen the muscles. I want to talk to you, anyway.”

 

Neal hesitated and Steel looked at him. “What is it?”

 

“I – on Earth, it would normally be a…”

 

Steel waited, not catching the implication. Neal stated it directly, “I would normally expect a woman to …”

 

Steel gave a surprised laugh. “So men, on Earth, can fight and hurt each other, but do nothing for each other that is comforting?”

 

“Oh, no, my Lord – there are many men who find other men …comforting. But - ”

 

“Neal, stop being silly! You say you would expect me to beat you if you were caught stealing, and that would hurt - but I cannot help you?”

 

“It is not that, exactly, my Lord…”

 

“There is nothing wrong with finding the touch of a woman pleasant, but women are not, in general, as strong, their hands do not have the strength unless they are trained. Leran taught us many healing techniques…our men, thankfully, have not had to fight away from home for extended periods, but that is not to say that will never change. In his youth, they knew not the Chiri and in battle there are many ways to get injured. We bind each other’s wounds from swords and axes, but a pulled muscle can be the difference between life and death in the next confrontation!

         “Did you think I meant to…” Neal saw his Lord’s face change as he went on, “Never mind. I am sure that later, after the baby is here, Lira will be able to help you if you still need it.”

 

Neal swallowed and answered, “I am sorry, Lord. Truly, it was a very childish response. I would be very grateful if you can help me.”

 

He lay down on his face and then picked his head up. “You want me to take off my top?”

 

“No, better with it on. I want to use pressure, not friction.”

 

His Lord’s strong hands started at his neck, finding the tight muscles, feeling the vertebrae. At any sign of the muscle tightening, protecting, he stopped, finding the nerves involved with his sensitive fingers, using pressure on a certain area till the muscle suddenly released, sometimes with a strange near-painful twang, like a plucked guitar string, before he moved on.

 

“Leran taught all his warriors this?” Neal asked, his voice muffled.

 

“Mmm-hmm.”

 

“I work on keeping my muscles strong. I need them strong. They resist loosening up, usually. Fight a massage as though it is an invasion!”

 

“It helps that you are a small species and I, too, am strong,” Steel noted. “I do not have to use harsh movements, or anything like all my strength. I have tried this on Leran himself and it is harder to manage the releases. Or he was more badly damaged! His back is like a board at the best of times!”

 

As he continued down the spine, Steel said, “I have thought about our brief conversation, Neal. I would rather Steel and Betchem did not come to blows! People would get hurt! Steel may well become an outpost of Betchem!

         “However, I do not want you to ask Lira to repair you. I like you as you are, wicked side and all. I have too many good, normal, decent people as it is!”

 

“I will try to stop, Lord. I can – oof!” as a nerve twanged. Neal almost giggled at the odd sensation. “I think that is my…” he reverted to English, his Sheel wasn’t that good! “…’cervisis’, we would call it…dunno the word here.”

 

“What?” Steel asked, stopping his ministrations.

 

“The spinal cervisis, if I am not mistaken. Muscles. They extend the spinal column, amongst other things,” Neal mumbled, enjoying the feeling of being relaxed, and then reverted to Sheel. “Not quite sure…easier to see on a statue or model than to feel on oneself, strangely. Well, they are hidden, but you can see where they are…”

 

“You studied …healing? How the body functions?”

 

“I studied that – we call it ‘anatomy’ – because it increases the accuracy of figure drawing, and many great artists in the past would steal cadavers to dissect them and find out how the muscles were attached, how they moved over one another, how they caused the bones to move one way or another.”

 

Steel laughed. “So being an great artist and a thief naturally go together!”

 

“Sometimes!”

 

Steel continued down Neal’s spine. “But I know from my field training, there are hundreds, thousands of muscles, attachments, bones – you need not have learned the names?”

 

“No. I just remember things, my Lord. Trivia. Silly habit.”

 

Steel remained quiet as he worked. Neal continued to surprise him!

 

“There!” he said, kneeling up and patting Neal’s backside. “That should feel better!”

 

Neal, a cute and delicious puddle of relaxation, murmured something unintelligible and Steel grinned, stepping off the bed.

 

“Move onto your side, Neal!” he said, knowing that Neal would be more comfortable. Neal, with another muffled noise of acquiescence, turned onto his side. His Lord covered him with a blanket and left him there!

 

Steel came in and roused Neal a few hours later. “Neal! You need to get up and dress! Lira says the time is approaching that this baby wants to be here!”

 

Neal sat up, and stretched luxuriously, bones shifting without difficulty. “Oh, my Lord, I have not felt so relaxed for a long time!”

 

“You heard?”

 

“Yes! I must wash and shave and dress! I - ”

 

“Merritt is in your rooms getting things ready for you. You have plenty of time. He has food, as well.”

 

“He must have pushed himself and the horses!”

 

“Joster is returning with the wagon, I believe. They mean to look after you, Neal!”

 

“I will take a little looking-after at this moment!” He managed to get to his feet, searching for his house-boots.

 

“Neal,” Steel said, taking his shoulders in his hands and making him face him.

 

“Y-yes, my Lord?” Neal was a little alarmed at Steel’s serious expression.

 

“I have come to a decision. Neal, go ahead. Make a copy as close as you can to the original. Steal my mother’s portrait for Steel Keep.”

 

“Lord Steel!” Neal’s blue eyes were huge with disbelief.

 

“I mean it. I want her here, too.”

 

“But – Betchem – you - ”

 

“Let us live dangerously! I want to see your forgery, first – then I want to see the original. Here!”

 

Neal studied his face, trying hard to _read_ this alien, whom he loved and trusted, but still didn’t know. He was truly an alien. This was a response he had not expected in the least! Then he smiled a strange smile. “Are you aware that you have just made it less of a compulsion by the giving of your permission, Lord?”

 

“Nevertheless – Betchem believes they are invincible! And though I love the Lord and Lady, and Ethlan and many others there, perhaps it is time for them to realise that they can be bested!”

 

“You beat their warriors in single combat!”

 

“True. Now they will see Steel has other experts!”

 

“A well-named Keep, indeed,” Neal murmured, making his way to his rooms.

 

 

 

Mozzie was in their rooms, all ready to leave, but stopped when Neal signalled to him. Neal quickly showered, Merritt shaved him, and he dressed. While he ate a hurried breakfast, Merritt went to carry on with sorting out the things they had taken for their trip.

 

“Mozzie!” Neal hissed in English, as soon as his man had left the rooms. “Guess what?”

 

“What, Neal? Where were you? I almost thought to come and look for you, you were not at your best last night! Oh, and your Merritt gives a perfectly adequate shave, though I gave him a few pointers on the proper care of the blade. It is pleasant to have that done, if it is done correctly.”

 

“I spoke to Lira and went and spoke to my Lord, told him of my dilemma.”

 

“You told him you wanted to steal our grandmother.” Mozzie sounded dumb-founded.

 

“No, no – he actually guessed that. He knew I’d been to Betchem, and it is the most steal-worthy thing there!”

 

“Stupid.”

 

“He said I should go ahead!”

 

Mozzie stared at him. “Neal, are you quite well?”

 

“I know! It’s surprising, yes?”

 

“It’s crazy is what it is.”

 

“Well, I suppose if Lord Betchem wants reparation, he could always claim the single-champion way of dealing with confrontations, rather than a military solution. Perhaps that's his plans”

 

“But he is close to the Betchemen, isn’t he, the Lord and Lady, many of their kin?”

 

“Yes…but they are supposed to be close to him! Why did they never offer him the portrait?”

 

“People are strange, Neal. Lord Betchem perhaps loves it.”

 

“I think he’s covetous of it. It isn’t his mother! Our Lord became angry when he saw it, when he was very little – naturally, you’ll agree? – and Lord Betchem was offended by how vehement he was. I think he still thinks that he’ll ‘show the boy’ – and so he kept it. He probably isn’t even aware of that motivation consciously any more.”

 

“You mean, it is possible that he would give it to Caerrovon if he just asked, now?”

 

“Possibly. But we can’t risk that! Then if he says no, his guard will be up! And it takes all the fun out of it!”

 

“Oh I agree. So you’re going to try and copy this masterpiece? It is quite fabulous work, Neal.”

 

“I will try. Now that I am not going to rush it, I will take my time, get into the lady’s head. The artist. Get into her head and heart and hand – you know. And Betchem will not think he’s in any danger, as I am gone and if he is like others, he will not think of me jumping back there, even if he is aware of that ability.”

 

“You left a love-token?”

 

“Didn’t need one after one or two jumps…I love our grandmother quite enough!”

 

“You have not stolen from friends and kin.”

 

“I am not really stealing _now!_ I am merely swopping!”

 

“You really are an arrogant son-of-a-bitch, Neal Caffrey!”

 

Neal grinned blindingly. “It is not arrogance if it is true, Moz. Then it is merely candour.”

 

Mozzie paused. “Can I ask a favour?”

 

“Of course…and if you would like to do the painting, I would be most pleased, as I know you are, actually, a better, more patient expert than I! I am not so arrogant that I don’t know that!”

 

“Perhaps at one time. You have matured and developed a great deal, mon frère. No, would you allow me to assess your work before you make the swop?”

 

“See if it’s good enough?”

 

“From a technical point of view. Obviously, the whole empathy-thing is out of my area of expertise!”

 

“You always did have the final say before we did swops in the past!”

 

 

Bubbling inwardly with excitement, Neal made his way to the Greatroom where everyone who was not involved in some urgent task seemed to be congregated! Everyone that worked in the Main Keep knew and loved Diana.

 

Diana and Tammy and Lira were obviously in the couple’s rooms. It soon seemed clear that Ophera was with them. Peter and El saw Neal and Mozzie and waved them over. June was standing with them.

 

“We were told to come here, the baby’ll be here soon!” El said, her blue eyes huge. “Oh, I hope everything will be all right…!”

 

“Lira’s there, El!” Neal reminded her. “Nothing is going to go wrong!”

 

El took his arm, gazed into his eyes and nodded, “You’re right! I’m thinking of back home! I wonder how Lira can predict exactly when the baby will arrive! I’ve had friends be in labour for a couple of hours, or a couple of days!”

 

Peter put his arm round her. “Lira is very special. Look at how she healed us! Neal had – we both had terrible scars that should have been there forever, just gone.”

 

“Thank the Good Lord!” June said. “That was a terrible time – best not to have anything to remind us! My poor boys! You protected me at great cost to yourselves.”

 

Neal gave her a quick hug. “Worth it, love. And you came to my rescue at times, if you recall?”

 

“I’m glad I never saw those!” El said, dropping her voice and her eyes. “I hate to think you both went through such terrible pain!”

 

“Long time ago, El,” Neal said, reassuringly. “Now it's all just like a horrible dream.

................"So, do you think he’ll look like Tammy, or Diana?”

 

“Neal!” El laughed. “I haven’t figured out how they’re having a little baby boy.”

 

“Well, the gender of birds is genetically decided in a totally different way, opposite, in a way, to ours, so it’s not inconceivable that the Tassin are the same,” Mozzie commented.

 

“Inconceivable, or unbearable…” Peter murmured.

 

“An impregnable mystery,” El joined in.

 

“Expecting a solution,” Neal grinned.

 

At that moment Steel came through the doorway from the kitchens and said, “I think the poor child would rather not meet the whole Keep at one time! We are a small Keep, but more than enough to confuse a baby on his first day in the world. Why do we not leave the Earthlings and Shiral – and me! – to be here for his first venturing forth. I am sure the rest of you will have a chance to meet the little thing over the next few days!”

 

Grumbling good-naturedly, the ones not picked for the welcoming committee moved off.

 

Then Peter, Neal and the rest heard Diana say, “Oh!” loudly, in a tone of total astonishment, and they looked at each other in alarm…and just stopped themselves from rushing the room! This wasn’t the time! Diana probably didn’t need rescuing!

 

Ophera put her head out of the door after a moment and said, “The little Theo is here, and perfectly healthy! Now you’ll just have to be patient! You will see him soon enough.”

 

“And Diana?” Peter demanded in his best Leader-of-the-Team voice.

 

Ophera seemed surprised. “Yes, she is very well, Peter,” she said, and the door closed again.

 

“Well!” Mozzie said. “I suppose we wait!”

 

“I understand just why husbands want to pace,” Peter said. “I feel as though this is my baby! I so want everything to go well!”

 

“I think we all feel part of this baby,” Neal agreed. “We’ve been so close to Diana – and Tammy! For many years, through such traumatic times! When she and Jones fell through the door and how desperate they looked when they first saw our Lord.”

 

“They assumed I would be as evil as their last lord!” Steel agreed. “Diana was so badly hurt! Is Caleb – Jones! – is he going to come and see her?”

 

“I know Tamlin and Diana let him know of the approaching event, Lord,” Shiral told him, “but I am not sure he knew it would be today.”

 

“I shall go and get him if he doesn’t come!” threatened Neal.

 

After this they sat around and hardly spoke, but it was only about half-an-hour later that Ophera opened the door and beckoned for them to come in. Diana was sitting up, her hair neat and tidy, wearing a pretty robe. She was smiling hugely at her little bundle. Tammy was hovering just behind her, gloating over her partner and their child.

 

The other Earthlings came forward with that feeling of awe that such a miraculous event causes almost everyone with any breath of sensitivity to feel. Lira was standing away to one side, Ophera to the other.

 

Lira said quietly, “They are both in very good health, but it is a disorienting transition for both of them, so please do not stay too long! Their bodies need to re-adjust in many ways.”

 

Little Theo opened his eyes and blinked, frowning a little, and a tiny hand came up and wrapped itself around Tammy’s finger. _“Oh!”_ she breathed in delight.

 

“He is so beautiful! He looks like you, Diana!” Shiral said.

 

“He has Tammy’s jawline, perfectly, her shape eyes, her chin and hands, look – six fingers!” Diana giggled euphorically, looking at the tiny, clinging hand, dimples at the root of every finger. “Does that mean he will be a telepath?”

 

“It may, we have never had, to my knowledge, a Tassin-Earthling blend,” Lira told her, “and even amongst the Tassin – and amongst the Earthlings – the gifts vary. But Tamlin can hear him strongly, and you can as well, Diana, so I believe he will be very strong in the gifts.”

 

“He’s _beautiful_ , Diana!” Peter said, moving the blanket out of the way a little with a finger that looked huge beside the tiny face, so that he could see him better.

 

“Aren’t you clever, both of you!” Elizabeth smiled. “He truly is lovely. _Much_ prettier than most new-borns!”

 

“Well, about that!” Diana chortled. “This didn’t go quite the way I’d planned – or expected!”

 

“Are you on some of the good stuff, Di?” asked Neal, puzzled.

 

Lira smiled at Diana. “I want you to promise to rest, both of you! He is a bundle of joy, you are elated, but he is going to be a lot of work!

“Yes, you will, and that is as it should be, you are going to need a great deal of help growing up, little one,” she said to the baby. El and Peter shook their heads at each other.

 

“At least I feel well-rested and fine now, Lira…thank you! You and Pika, both! Thank you so very much!” Diana said, taking Lira’s hand for a moment.

 

Lira went out with Ophera.

 

“Pika?” Elizabeth asked.

 

“The Chiri usually work in pairs for a birth, especially the first one,” Tammy told them. “There is much to do in a short time. She left to go to a child in need.”

 

“It can be stressful and painful and rather terrible, many of my friends have been exhausted,” Elizabeth went on, “but you look fantastic, Di!”

 

“You look like one of those old movies mothers, where the star is all made up and holding a baby…but those were usually nowhere near new-borns!” June chuckled.

 

“I – Lira – she told me she’d sing, to close my eyes, and she – he was here, on my stomach!” Diana looked round. None of them had ever seen the competent, self-assured Diana anything like as befuddled as she was at that second. “Ophera cleaned him up a little…it’s quite amazing!”

 

“Lira just translated him into her arms, while Pika completed everything else…you know, all the processes the mother’s body goes through normally,” Tammy said. “I thought you knew what would happen!” she said to her partner.

 

Diana turned to her and said in Sheel, “Do you know how many books I read? I knew what was going to happen, and _that_ it was not!

         “That was a very pleasant surprise!”

 

“You just – she – you didn’t - ” Peter was almost speechless.

 

“Understand I do not,” Steel said, looking from one to another. “This seems normal. In what way is it surprising? What were you expecting?”

 

The Earthlings all looked at one another and started to laugh.

 

“Alien Lord,” said Mozzie, patting his arm, “I will explain at another, more appropriate time.”

 

“So you feel …fine?” Neal asked Diana.

 

“I feel very fine! A little odd…as though everything inside me has moved around, but no pain, no exhaustion. Lira told me to lie down, or recline, as I felt ...dizzy? Otherwise I just feel so happy!"

 

“He has such lovely big blue eyes!” Tammy exclaimed as the baby yawned and closed those eyes. He certainly was a pretty baby!

 

“A newborn’s eyes change as they grow, Tammy. Seriously, you can’t bank on them staying the colour they’re born with,” June said. “Especially in the first six months. He will probably have brown eyes, like Diana.”

 

“Oh, I knew not,” Tammy answered.

 

“But Lira,” Diana asked, interested, “can see down to the DNA level, could she not?”

 

“I believe she could,” Tamlin nodded, stroking Diana’s hair gently.

 

“So – she could tell us what colour his eyes are going to be, our little Theo?”

 

“No, no – enjoy the changes!” El exclaimed. “You don’t want to know everything all at once, Di! He’s healthy and perfect and beautiful! That’s all that matters now.”

 

Diana looked at El. “You’re right, Elizabeth. I guess I was surprised at the birthing event! I expected to be more …strenuously involved! I expected to have to do a marathon, and I hardly took a step!"

 

“Trust me,” El smiled, “this way is better! He’s safe and has had no stress from the birth!”

 

“And neither do you. It is as it should be!” Shiral agreed.

 

“If I had known about this planet before I gave birth I might have tried to get abducted here before my children were born!” June averred. “My first was thirty-six hours of pure, unadulterated hell! It was very lucky for Byron that they did not allow fathers to attend the birth in those days; I doubt he would have survived!”

 

The Earthlings laughed, but Steel looked even more puzzled.

 

Everyone wanted to gently touch the baby, just to prove to themselves that he really was here, and healthy. Such a tiny specimen of humanity, growing for a long time in the soft, warm dim and now here, ready to learn and laugh and enjoy life!

 

Then Tammy said, “I think I should get Diana some food and juice,” and everyone volunteered to go and fetch them for her – and Diana said, “Mozzie, I’d like you to stay for just a few moments, please?”

 

The rest left and at that moment Ophera came up with a tray of food and drink for the mothers, so the others opened the door for her and Mozzie took it and set it down, and the door closed again.

 

“Well!” Peter said. “Since there are no fathers in this case, it seems a good thing that there was no time for them to walk up and down and wring their hands!”

 

“And pass out cigars in self-congratulation when they have had very little to do with the delivery!” Neal nodded at him.

 

Peter put his arm around Elizabeth, and Neal, seeing the loving look that passed between them, wondered why they had never had children. He had always felt awkward about asking. It could be health related, or Peter’s high-risk work – perhaps they felt it was bad enough that El worried every time he was out late!

 

“So, Peter and El – you are – what did you call yourself, Peter? Work-grandparents!” Neal smiled at them.

 

“Best way of doing it, Neal!” Elizabeth chuckled. “We get to play with them and spoil them and then we get to go home and leave the over-tired child and the mess!”

 

Mozzie came out of Tammy and Diana’s rooms, his face soft and pensive.

 

“I am going to help Ophera,” Elizabeth said. “I’m sure a baby will cause more work for everyone, as they always do!”

 

“Certainly we are behind on the preparation of the mid-day meal!” June agreed. “Let us go and help, Elizabeth! Isn’t he cute - !”

 

“I still do not understand - ” Steel complained, looking from one to the other.

 

The male Earthlings looked a little bemused as to how to explain what they thought of as a normal birth process to a young alien lord who seemed totally naïve about the phenomenon.

 

“Come, Caerrovon,” Mozzie said, placing one hand on his arm, “I will enlighten you.”

 

They went off together.

 

“Another odd conversation, I think!” Neal smiled, watching two of his favourite people walk away together.

 

Peter looked uncomfortable. Then he asked, “Any word on the cause of the deaths?”

 

Neal shook his head, amused that Peter had taken recourse in that – they’d always been best when working together. “There was that horrible time when we thought it might be a human-borne disease? – but Mozzie was brave and underwent that scan that proved that the idea was wrong. Since then there have been very few deaths – fewer. There have never been a great deal.”

 

“It is a weird mystery.”

 

“It is. So few clues, no real suspects, no pattern other than they are alone – or a pair is alone. And no marks. Young. No poison, no symptoms.”

 

“I have been quite busy, on Earth, but I think about it when I have time.”

 

“Mmm.”

 

“I have had some strange theories! I had this weird dream…that those plants Brak told us about, right when we first came here, had developed a weapon that targeted all the planets that had isolated them, sent them into a plant prison. Like a shot-gun…but the shot was scattered because the planets were so far away, so it just got one person here or there – crazy, huh?”

 

Neal stared at him. “You are quite, absolutely brilliant, Special Agent Burke!”

 

Peter looked gratified, but confused.

 

“What if you’re right? Oh, not about the shotgun, I don’t think the plants are technologically advanced in any way…but perhaps – where’s Brak?”

 

The two hurried off, first to where Mozzie was talking earnestly, and with many hand-gestures, to Steel, who looked quite repulsed and denied all knowledge of Brak’s whereabouts when asked. As Peter and Neal started off for the kitchen they heard him say, “Like _wild animals? …– **No!**_ our baby horses appear as Theo did today! I cannot believe - ”

 

Peter and Neal shot a quick grin at each other. “He only remembers births since Lira came to Steel, obviously,” Neal said.

 

“Well – they would have kept that from a growing boy...but not the horses!”

 

“No – but most births of foals take place at Sea Keep. And the chickens come from eggs…it’s possibly a cultural thing, to keep children from that knowledge. Oh – and Lord Betchem told me that there have been few human births at Steel, for some reason.”

 

“We’ve just transgressed the Prime Directive!” Peter chuckled. “Poor Steel!”

 

“I suppose someone who has actually been abducted by aliens would become a closet Trekkie!” Neal chuckled, glancing sideways at Peter, who coloured a little.

 

“Rubbish! I always liked Star Trek, and now reruns of it are on late at night when I’m just finished working sometimes.”

 

“Mozzie says – and this is how he phrases it! – ‘Conspiracy experts and aficionado’s of science fiction are far more intelligent than the average’ – and I’m not sure about the former, but amongst readers there is research supporting the statement!”

 

"He's probably accurate. However crazy the conspiracies they believe in, those 'experts' are at least thinking for themselves, not just accepting the normal 'party line'," Peter admitted, making Neal smile at him.

At least they could be polite and genial to one another, after this length of time.

 

They reached the kitchen and Brak was helping Ophera with some heavy supplies. Neal and Peter pitched in to help, feeling at home.

 

As they worked, Neal asked, “Tell us about those flowers you mentioned when we first arrived, Brak?”

 

“Flour?” he asked. “From Camber?”

 

“No, Brak,” Peter took over, impatiently, “we were talking about weird aliens, ones unlike our species, and you told us about Vork and things with tentacles, and flowers that sucked energy.”

 

“Oh, yes. I know not the name of those, Peter.”

 

“But they are just flowers? On a stalk, no hands or tentacles, no technology?”

 

“I believe so,” Brak said, hesitantly. “No, for those that encountered them first thought they were flowers, growing in the warmth of the sun? They realised not that they were predators, many of them, until it was too late.”

 

Peter looked at Neal over a huge bag of some kind of lentil. “Well, that puts paid to my idea of shotguns!”

 

“It was a very clever thought, Peter,” Neal told him. “No marks or disease…they leave no marks, do they, Brak?”

 

“I have no idea, Master Neal! I believe not, but I know very little. They are confined to their planet a long way from here.”

 

“I wonder if there is another such species that is an energy predator…who would know? Lira?” Neal asked Brak, as a last resort, not wanting to give up this first good idea since the mystery had begun.

 

“Perhaps, Neal,” Brak told him dubiously. “I heard about them a long time ago. You know we used to be a species very reliant on inanimate technology? We ventured into space, we made contact with other beings who did the same, there were even some battles in space. This was a little after the Keep wars. And then we saw the start of real destruction on our planet because of our damaging technology and went about changing it. The flowers were encountered by a species that visited their home system. I only heard about them from my uncle who had spoken to one of those space-travellers.

         “I think I remember only because it was a horrible thought that pretty flowers could turn on you and suck you dry.”

 

“Sort of Drakulavender!” Peter said in distaste, and Neal grimaced.

 

“ _Horrible_ , Peter!”

 

“I doubt they are pretty,” Peter said, remembering Venus fly-traps and sundews from Earth, “they don’t need to attract pollinators. They probably smell like meat or something, to attract animals to come close.”

 

Neal frowned. “I sort of think they would be even creepier if they were beautiful.

         “Lira’s probably still around. I shall try and find her. You should go and help Elizabeth, Peter. I know you always have too little time with her. I’ll keep you updated if I find anything! You’re going to be around for a few days?”

 

“Probably a dead end – sorry, ‘nother horrible word play. But yes, let me know what she says!”

 

 

 

 

The End of Chapter 18

 

Come on! I must know that you're out there!

 


	19. Heading for the Last Round-Up.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steal threatens Neal - again - and Mozzie get's to know Theo a bit more and Neal and Mozzie plan to follow Peter's dream...sort of.

 

 

 

 

 

 

“The mid-day meal is almost ready! Wash you hands and come to the table everyone!” Elizabeth called.

 

“The Burkes are a bossy bunch, aren’t they, Peter?” Neal teased, and soon it was a normal, busy meal in the huge kitchen. Lira was not there, but then, the Chiri seemed not to eat in the normal way.

 

As soon as he could, Neal left the table and sat in the Greatroom and thought about what Peter had said. In a way the problem was that so few people were killed…everyone managed to forget about the deaths after a while – and then another would happen. The victims had never been one of the best-known, best-loved or high-status persons, usually newcomers or those that were shy and rather solitary anyway…was that just because they were easier to catch alone?

 

As soon as he heard all the Keepers go off to their work, Neal started off towards the stables, but didn’t get there! He was walking down the corridors when his Lord Steel called him.

 

“My Lord?” he said, going over.

 

“I would like you to come into my study, if the timing is beneficial.”

 

“Yes, I am trying to find Lira, but sadly I think there is no rush. What is it, my Lord?”

 

They went into the study and Steel closed the door after them. He steered Neal to the furthest seat on the couch, and sat down on Neal’s left.

 

“I have received letters from various people, mostly Lords, about your visit, Neal.”

 

“Oh, how interesting,” Neal answered. He considered their proximity and their relative positions and added, “I think I will sit over there and - ”

              -  But as he rose, Steel snagged his belt and pulled him back down. The Lord wrinkled his nose a little and said, “I think I would prefer you to be right here, nice and close, Neal.”

 

“As you wish, my Lord,” Neal nodded, trying to subtly move just a bit further away, put a little more distance between them, but Steel was having none of it and put his arm round Neal’s shoulders.

 

“I want not to cramp your movement, Lord. Your right hand is dominant, am I wrong?”

 

“I have plenty of room to do whatever I wish to do, Neal.”

 

 _And there it is! Another deadly, if gentle-sounding Caerrovon Steel threat,_ Neal grinned to himself, a little nervous none-the-less.

 

Steel took several sealed letters from his over-shirt pocket and sorted them. He opened one and read the short contents. He kept the paper turned away so that Neal could not see it.

 

“Well, that is a pleasant letter from Lord Sunder, though you need to explain why he wishes you had never shown his wife the butterflies? He also gives me a quotation from the Sunder version of Tactics of War and Warriors: ‘It is far better to win by never entering the fight’ – you can explain that, also!

...........“And this is from his son, Tallk. Very heavily muscled men, all the royal Sunders.”

 

“That is true, my Lord,” Neal agreed, affably, hoping that Brak would intervene with some event that required Steel’s immediate attendance. “In fact, the vast majority of Sunders! Their work is strenuous.”

 

“Oh, and do not fear - Brak has been told that I am spending…oh, what did Mozzie call it…?...some quality time with my son and do not wish to be disturbed.”

 

Neal only just stopped himself from reacting. His shields were up, his emotions tightly controlled - there was no way Steel should have known what he was thinking! The man wasn’t a Tassin, wasn’t a telepath, wasn’t even a strong empath!

 

Steel read Tallk’s note and turned and looked down at Neal, who had what Peter called his ‘butter-not-melting-in-his-mouth’ expression. “How did you best Jebb, my slender son, and twenty of his best fighters in a contest for bragging rights? Tallk is all admiration! He says I should enter you for the All-In Warrior Award instead of Joster or myself!”

 

“Tallk is joking, my Lord, as is obvious! It is a long and complicated story and it would probably be unfair to Jebb for me to share it, Lord Steel.”

 

“ ‘Lord Steel’ is it, now? Hmm…we shall see about you sharing that story, Neal.”

 

The next note was from Lady Camber, who had written a bland letter that could have been copied out of the High Sheel edition of _Emily Post’s Etiquette_. Steel did not make any remark.

 

The next was from Lord Camber, and Neal made a conscious effort not to brace himself.

 

Steel turned to look down at Neal again, this time with a puzzled frown. “This says he admires your ability to prevail against a not inconsiderable opposing force and to still win friends, Neal…what did you do at Camber?”

 

Neal gazed at him with innocent eyes. “Many things, my Lord! I played with the children…I learnt about their natural glacial milk irrigation system…Lord Camber himself told me about the topic of Earthlings bringing the death-causing disease…I was very upset…”

 

“I hesitate to mistrust you, Neal, but all that hardly explains Lord Camber’s remark. He goes on to say that he applauds my selection, if for your wiles and confidence alone… _hmm!...._ and says that my pup is probably worth all the domesticating necessary? And if that were not enough, Neal, he mentions that he has a mystery on his hands. His signet ring went missing.”

 

“Oh, dear!” Neal answered, blandly.

 

“Yes, but he found it again.”

 

“That is a good thing.”

 

“He found it locked in his desk drawer, in an office that is never unlocked when he is absent from it.”

 

Neal frowned a little. “So he put it away with care and forgot where he put it? People do that all the time! But at least he found it again.”

 

“Should I explain to him that my son and heir has boasted on several occasions that there is not a lock he can not pick, Neal?”

 

“No, I think not. That may likely cause him to become confused. But I would never have had access to his signet ring, my Lord, surely – he would be careful of losing it. And I was very busy at Camber, you know, my Lord. I was in his study several times, with Lord Camber himself.”

 

“And never in the study without the Lord, Neal?”

 

“I think you should ask him, if you are questioning my truthfulness, my Lord. I was there with the Lord, and with the Lord and Lira and Kitran – oh, and Mozzie! - when we were worried about the human connection to the deaths? – but the Lord himself will tell you that we were together.

...........“He obviously does not suspect me, my Lord, because of the nice things he says about me!”

 

“That you need domesticating?”

 

“We joked together – as you and I did when I very fortunately found the long-lost secret passage into your room, my Lord!

............“And Lord, I am still learning the correct protocols and etiquette to be observed, and that is probably to what he refers.

..............“I assure you, we parted most amicably!”

 

“I think you must explain all of these letters to me…except Lady Camber’s. Hers is very polite about you, Neal.”

 

“I did find their Keep…monotonous, Lord. But the children are lovely.”

 

“Is my youngest son lying to me, Neal?”

 

“ _Lying_ , my Lord? _Me?”_

 

“You, my son!”

 

Neal grinned up at him. “I may be painting a portrait without all the wrinkles and blotches, Lord, but in truth I parted on very good terms with everyone I dealt with at all the Keeps…except Jebb.”

 

“We-ell, I know Jebb. An obnoxious upstart scion of the House of Sunder! As much as I sometimes think you are asking for a swat, my young pup, if just to make sure I am paying you attention because I love you - he always brought out a desire in me to pound him into the ground like a peg for the hobbling of horses, and I could not understand why his elder brother did not set him straight!

         “So I am not bereft that you taught him a lesson…and I will not hold any of this against you on one condition…”

 

“And that is, my Lord? Remembering that I resolutely admit to no wrongdoing whatsoever!”

 

“That you tell me all about your adventures! And Neal…?”

 

“Yes, my Lord?”

 

“Remembering that these are my friends and I will, sooner or later, have a chance to ask them their opinion of your visits in person?”

 

Neal laughed at him. “I have no fear. They are all the epitome of discretion, my Lord! None of them would tell me in what mischief _you_ indulged when you vacationed there as a child. I think if they felt the need to disclose my indiscretions - had there been any, you understand? - they would have to rethink their stance on yours? You can judge for yourself whether that would be a fair trade?”

 

“Sometimes, Neal,” Lord Steel said, shaking him affectionately, “I quite understand Peter’s wish to throw you in a dungeon! One day…one day, Neal, I will catch you out!”

 

Neal smiled up at him, his face suddenly gentle. “I love you, too, my Lord!”

 

“I love you, also, my son – but that will not prevent me from trying my best to outwit you!”

 

 

Neal was smiling as he jogged down the corridor. Steel must be unique! But throughout their good humoured verbal tussle something had been niggling in the back of Neal’s brain. It was too great a risk, he had to at least find out it if was true. And despite his love of a challenge, he felt it only reasonable to try and put some safeguards in place. He enjoyed the thrill of leaping off tall buildings, but only when he had good odds of making it down – with the valuable payload, or at least the girl’s number! – with just a few bruises.

 

_And the girl’s number thing is merely wishful thinking…I like to put on a show of having seduced scores of beautiful women and perhaps a few men, but I have always been over-careful and often too busy. And I think Mozzie’s attitude on many things…including the dangers of intimate relationships vis-à-vis secrecy…influenced me more than I knew. Perhaps constructively. Look at the whole Kate disaster!_

_Poor Kate._

 

First, he made sure that Joster was back, working in the stables, finishing putting everything away, and asked him to find Merritt.

 

“Oh, Joster,” he stopped the young man from hurrying off on his errand, and lowered his voice, “Lord Sunder told me in confidence that they practise archery there, just in case. We have one of the best-trained armies, I cannot believe that Leran ignores that skill? Just in case?”

 

Joster looked startled to be asked this, his eyes opened wide but his mouth remained closed.

 

“As I thought,” Neal grinned a little. “You are mine to command, yes, Joster?”

 

“Yes, Master Neal!” Joster stood up straight, feeling that his allegiance to the heir was easily as important as obeying Leran’s strict instructions. He had come to trust Neal perhaps more than most would have suggested that he did! If he found himself in trouble with Leran, either Neal would get him out of it – this he felt was sure! – or he would just take the consequences.

 

“Can you find…” Neal thought a moment, “…twenty skilled archers? Fifteen would do at a pinch…

         “Men and women you would trust with my life?”

 

Joster wasn’t sure why Neal had phrased it that way, but he nodded.

 

“I want you to find them and, with great stealth, each collect a large armful or slingful, preferably, of firewood and some tinder, a quiver full of arrows - lots of arrows! – and your bows, already strung. Wear your swords if you can, but definitely take your throwing daggers. Go to the…” he hesitated, “where can we meet where no-one will see us or hear us?”

 

Joster seemed puzzled, and again Neal thought that these poor boys lived a sheltered life!

 

“I know – the foaling stables! There are no mares there are present, and because of that, no-one is sleeping above them! Meet behind them. I will come to you!”

 

“Yes, Master Neal! Can I ask what this is about?”

 

Neal made a face. “Probably nothing, Joster. I just want to check on something, and – well, I will explain to everyone you bring. Do not let anyone see any of you, especially the Lord, Brak, Leran – anyone who has authority to stop you or question you.”

 

“This is like playing a trick on Jebb Sunder!” Joster hazarded.

 

“Something like that!” Neal told him, and they parted ways, both their heart-rates a little elevated.

 

Since Neal was already in the stables, he went and removed from their pegs two neatly wound lengths of soft, strong rope. Then he jumped to his rooms in the hope that Mozzie was there. Moz wasn’t, so Neal left the rope and went to find him.

 

Mozzie was with Diana and Tammy, and they were cuddled up in bed together, watching with amusement as Moz tidied up the room, holding Theo at the same time. Moz had Theo tucked under his arm, the baby’s head on his palm. The baby was quite contented, and Mozzie was telling him to always ask questions, don’t assume people are telling you the truth.

         “You’ll find some people that do, but trust me, Theo, they are few and far between!”

 

“Mozzie,” Diana laughed, “don’t you think he’s a little young for indoctrination, and do you honestly think he’ll remember your dire warnings?”

 

“This is not indoctrination, ladies – and Theo! – _this_ is the only safe vaccination! No formaldehyde or mercury or fragmented genetic materials! I am inoculating him against advertising and propaganda!

“And we never know what babies remember, but their brains start creating synaptic pathways very early!”

 

“Where did you learn to look after babies, Mozzie?” Tammy asked, gently. “He is happier with you than anyone, I think! I have never seen anyone carry a baby like that!”

 

Mozzie looked surprised. “I am not sure. But he is safe and comfortable, are you not Cutey-pie? And close enough to feel my warmth and heart-beat.”

 

“I see Theo is learning Sheel and English almost indiscriminately!” Neal chuckled. “How are you all?”

 

“I am in perfect health, Neal,” Mozzie said, and the women chuckled. “Oh, you mean the intergalactic mothers!”

 

“I feel eighteen, as usual after Lira works on me, Neal!” Diana told him. “Only a little …well, lacking in privacy? The fact that we have a baby has brought everyone to our suite since he was born!”

 

“Poor things!” Neal teased. “Had time to try for a sister or brother for Theo you have not?” He leaned over the bed and kissed each of them.

 

“That’s about the state of affairs, Caffrey! Could you…?” She looked at Mozzie, who was carefully sorting booties by colour and size.

 

“Theo’s asleep, there, Moz. Why don’t we give Tammy and Diana some time to themselves?”

 

Mozzie looked confused, then carefully placed Theo down in the crib and settled him comfortably.

 

“Thanks, you two!” Diana said, sincerely.

 

“You know our suite?” Neal said. “After a very short while we are going to be busy, and it will be free - so if people keep pestering you, just take the baby and jump there!”

 

“Oh we will just jump to Earth!” Tammy grinned.

 

“I apologise if I was insensitive,” Mozzie said, earnestly.

 

“Don’t be silly, Moz, dear,” Diana told him. “God-fathers are always welcome!”

 

“Oh, that’s lovely!” Neal said to Mozzie.

 

“And you, and Peter and Lord Steel…June and El and Shiral!” Diana assured him. “And Lira – but I’m not sure if she’ll accept. She must be God-mother – or whatever they call it here! - to thousands of babies!”

 

“Is Lira still at Steel?” Neal asked.

 

“She said she would pop in and check on us a little later. S’pose we should wait here till after she’s visited.”

 

“Um, unless she is in a hurry to leave, I would like to have some time with her,” Neal told them. “I have a few critical questions.”

 

“We will call you when she gets here, Neal,” Tammy assured him, and the two girls snuggled down together, and their friends left the small family alone.

 

“Come!” Neal said, quietly, and, since there was no-one in the corridor, he took Mozzie’s wrist and jumped them to their suite.

 

“What’s the hurry?” Mozzie demanded.

 

“Look, Moz, Peter had this idea, and it’s got me thinking. You probably have never heard of them, but on some planet far away there are plants, flowers, that drain people’s – well, animals – energy if they get too close. They were isolated on a planet and people go there and allow them to feed on them, but leave before they die. Brak told us about them before you joined us.

         “Peter had this dream that those flowers were shooting at all the planets, just getting one person here or there, hence our deaths.”

 

Mozzie looked a little disbelieving. “Like psychic vampires, but plants? With semi-automatics with vast range?”

 

“I don’t know about the vampirism part. Even Brak isn’t at all sure about them…the story is about fifth-hand and old, from when his uncle met some space travellers wa—ay back.”

 

“It sounds most unlikely. Shooting plants? Like those that have seed-pods that suddenly release their seed in an explosive way?”

 

“No, no – that was Peter’s dream! But what if those plants have managed to travel somehow?”

 

“Also unlikely.”

 

“Perhaps in the form of seeds, or spores? You know how resilient some seeds are!”

 

“Wouldn’t we notice a waving field of energy-sucking eschscholzia?”

 

“You just chose that because ‘eschscholzia’ is so much fun to say! Especially if you watch someone trying to spell it!

...........“Firstly, there may be only one or two. And they don’t need sunlight, I don't think, they feed on other animals.”

 

“I am unconvinced. How could they get to somewhere…those two girls were killed in a courtyard. How could the people who found them not notice a plant they’ve never seen, right there?”

 

“I’m not very convinced, either! But we can’t justify not investigating just because it seems far-fetched. This whole mystery has seemed impossible! I was thinking…perhaps they can move.”

 

“Move?”

 

“Well, slime moulds move!”

 

“They’re fungi!”

 

“I can’t think of one moving plant – as in actually moving around! But I don’t know of a vampire plant either, other than, perhaps, these!”

 

“Unicellular plant-things are motile, only they really fall somewhere between animals and plants. Okay, Neal, I’ll agree: we don’t know everything, and perhaps they can move. Like ents!”

 

“And more dangerous!”

 

“Where do we start? How big are they?”

 

"Oh.  I got the idea from Brak tht they were the size of normal plants...you know, bedding flowers like lupins and alstroemaria and rudbekia. But now I think about it, he wasn't very convincing about the details when I asked. He might have just imagined plants he knew when he was a boy and he was hearing about these."

 

“You know almost as many odd and disconnected things as I do!”

 

“The thing I thought of, and it’s horrible, is what if someone was carrying the plants around, setting them up like traps or mines?”

 

“How would they – you mean, they’ve found some way of shielding from them?”

 

“Yes. That would explain how the plants got here in the first place.”

 

“But why?”

 

“People are crazy?”

 

“Good enough.”

 

“Could be that they are testing them as a weapon. Small scale, going to expand the operation, wipe all the people off the planet and take it over? They could be breeding these plants somewhere. Down a mine, perhaps?”

 

“We should get some Earth cops! Especially from British Columbia or Quebec! It’d be like looking for grow-ops!”

 

“Yeah – with the added advantage for the grower that your valuable plants can defend themselves against cops and dogs and anything else! And get rats and mice out of your basement or attic! And any radically law-abiding nosy neighbours!”

 

“They sound particularly creepy!”

 

“They do, don’t they?

.........“So there are a few possibilities…one is that the plants are much smaller than we are imagining and can move under their own steam – as it were – and are intelligent. That’s the creepiest and most dangerous scenario, because I can’t think how we find them or defend against them.”

 

“Yeah. I refuse to bring that awful round-up to this planet! You know the history of that corporation?

..........“One thing against that idea…why didn’t they break out before?”

 

“Chance mutation?”

 

“Look, Neal, if they’re that small and clever, we probably can’t find them or fight them, so let’s, for now, discount that possibility.”

 

“Please let’s!

...........“The next worst possibility is that whoever or whatever is moving them around can translate. Then we’re almost at as great a disadvantage as the previous scenario.”

 

“Lira said it was love…?”

 

“Yeah, but perhaps these people are crazy enough to love killing?”

 

“I don’t think it can work that way. You’d have translated to Fowler and left your anklet on the floor!”

 

“Hey!” Neal’s blue eyes brightened. “You’re right! If I’d found out about this when I was shackled by the FBI, I could have literally left my anklet there and…but…hmm…”

 

“Yes. Remember, we don’t end up naked at our destination!”

 

“Would kind of limit it’s usefulness, hmm?”

 

“Yeah, all we could say was, ‘I’ll be back’ – and leave!

...........“Let’s focus on the Assassinating Asters, Neal!”

 

“Peter called them Drakulavender.”

 

“Good name! Not an idiot, the Suit! Go _on,_ Neal.”

 

“Well, if the ‘handlers’ of these murderous plants can _not_ jump, they must be living, somehow, in every Keep in which we’ve had deaths. Since we’ve been on higher alert, everyone has been watching for strangers, keeping together, all that.”

 

“I notice that you haven’t, and most of the people just get lazy about the buddy system…not that I was ever going to do it!”

 

“You’re right. But the murderers couldn’t risk being seen, not once! Oh-oooh, unless they are living in every Keep, already slaves there, known and trusted…how dreadful.”

 

“Where are you going with this line of thought?”

 

“You and I wander almost all the areas of this main Castle when we’re here, don’t we? We know the dust, the footprints. We notice things.”

 

“Yes…except…”

 

“Except the lowest dungeon. Since we finished the mapping of the castle, and I showed it to our Lord, showed him the passage door, I haven’t been down there.”

 

“Me, neither.”

 

“And we know every entrance and exit. So if they’ve been holed up there, we can isolate that dungeon and find out if we’re right.”

 

“How?”

 

Neal told him.

 

“Well, it sounds feasible, apart from the getting-yourself-killed part,” Mozzie said, sceptically.

 

“Unlikely. Unlikely that they’ll be close enough. All I need is one quick look.”

 

“Why you?”

 

“Well, Mozzie – who are we going to volunteer?”

 

“Just where did Kramer disappear to?”

 

Neal laughed. “Hopefully he was abducted and ended up being a sex slave to some completely blind, smelly and very large alien totally lacking in discernment! Or a whole planet full of such brutish, very large, smelly aliens!”

 

“They’d have to have no sense of smell, either! The aliens, that is!”

 

“I agree, shoving Kramer in front of oncoming vicious vampire verbenas does have appeal…but we don’t know where he went!”

 

“It probably wouldn’t provide any evidence. They’d ignore him…imagine absorbing _that_ kind of energy!”

 

“So I think it would be best if it were me. That got close. Because I’m relatively quick, you know? We can make a periscope to look around the corner, throw in a light?”

 

“Okay, that’s more reasonable.

..........“We could use some animal?”

 

“I’m not going to murder some random animal!”

 

“You realise if I’m in on this escapade and anything happens to you _I’ll_ be the random animal you’re killing – Steel will murder _me!”_

 

“No, he won’t. And nothing will happen.”

 

“You actually do have a death wish, don’t you?”

 

“No, Moz, but I just went through all this, about the forgery. I am not the same as you, or Steel or Peter or anyone. I really have got something wrong with me. Better than having some violent something wrong with me, but I will make trouble for both of my friends, sooner or later. I haven’t got a girl, I’m all alone other than you and Steel. I don’t even see June that often.

............“We can deal with that, but if something has to happen to somebody, better that it be me. It was even my stupidity that caused the people here to think we might be the carriers of a disease, so you had to endure that scan. But I don’t think it will.”

 

“You _hope_ something won’t, or you _regret_ that it won’t? You take on guilt so easily, my friend.”

 

“Let’s not get philosophical!

         “We might not have much time, Moz, we have no idea what their plan is or when they plan to kill again. You know, I looked at that tiny, cute, darling little baby, and his two intelligent, strong, brave, loving mothers and I thought – ‘it could be them’. Any of them, all of them - wrong place, and that’s it. I can’t risk another human being killed when I can do something that may – even a tiny chance – may help.

..........“And these murderous plants or people may even get to Earth, and she’s suffered enough! ”

 

Mozzie’s face changed. “You’re right.

...........“But I think we should flip a coin.”

 

Neal laughed out loud. “Oh, yes! The two of us tossing coins…we could toss them from here till doomsday and we each wouldn’t trust the other!”

 

Mozzie grinned. “That’s the truth!”

 

“And you have Sally.”

 

“What _about_ Steel and June? To say nothing of me!”

 

“Steel might have lost me permanently when all the Earthlings were going back to Earth. He was prepared to lose me. And June thought she _had_ lost me.”

 

“They’ve got you now, and they don’t want to lose you again! Neither do I!”

 

“I know. I’m not insensitive to that, but – look, Mozzie, let’s do this! I’ve got the warriors all set up. We’ve just got to do this! Secretly. No-one else has the skills and the lack of acceptance by society. We’ve always accepted the chance we’d lose each other to jail, a bullet, some accident. Ephemeral, us. Our lives were dangerous. Fun, I wouldn’t change one aspect of working together, but dangerous.”

 

“Okay, I agree. Reluctantly, but I agree.” Mozzie thought, but didn’t say, that he could have happily done without Kate and the extensive fall-out from her intrusion into their lives! None of that had been, for him, fun! And he didn't think this was going to be, either!

 

 

 

 

 

 

End of Chapter 19

 

Greedy author won't post if starving....>;-< ...like a sulking, starving scutellaria!

 

 


	20. A Million Frigid Winters.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal, Mozzie and a group of illegal warriors go after the murderers. Things go wrong.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Mozzie jumped back to Earth to put together a simple periscope from cardboard and mirrors. Neal took his fire-bugs that he used when he built the fires in the winter, some lighting bugs, also in their little glass bubbles, and the ropes and jumped to his favourite horse in the stables. From there it was a short jog to the foaling stables, where there was a small crowd of excited young warriors whispering and speculating.

 

When Neal appeared they all turned to face him and gave little bows and nods of recognition to his station. He explained what he wanted them to do.

 

“This sounds as though it has the potential to be very dangerous, Master Neal!” Joster said, coming to the front.

 

“I hope not for you, at all! We’re trying to make it as safe as possible for anyone, everyone. I will use a device – we call it a periscope – to look beyond the wall. But someone has to get close.”

 

Immediately, about ten of the warriors volunteered, including Joster and Merritt. Neal was touched, but shook his head. “I will do this.”

 

“You are the heir and I do not think, Master Neal, that we should allow you to risk yourself.” Joster was frowning stubbornly.

 

“I am the heir and therefore it is my decision.”

 

“You are the heir and therefore, Master Neal, not wishing to be discourteous, it should be Lord Steel’s decision.”

 

Neal glowered sternly. “I want everyone’s word – everyone’s – that none of you will alert Lord Steel to this plan! I want to know I can trust you!”

 

“But Master Neal - ”

 

“Insist not on calling me Master and then refuse to obey me, Merritt!”

 

“You should not put yourself at risk, Master Neal. Send one of us in your stead.”

 

“Does Lord Caerrovon Steel of Sea and Steel Keeps send you in when he fights evil people, Joster, and stand well back?”

 

“No,” Joster came as close to sulky as Neal could imagine him ever coming!

 

“Then obey me! Steel fights a different fight against evil. I must do this. Now I want your oaths.”

 

They all muttered at him.

 

“Does anyone refuse to swear?”

 

There was silence.

 

“Good. Now, that has wasted some time. I see some of you have short bows, some long.”

 

“We brought the bows we were most comfortable using, with which we are the most accurate and fast…it is a trade, Master Neal,” said a delicate-looking, tall, blonde girl, Lark, told him. “We can stand further away and be accurate with a long bow, but we are much faster with a short bow, but have to stand closer.”

 

“I think having a couple of long bows outside the walls would be good…they are harder to conceal under cloaks, but the accuracy from further might be vital. I know a little…oh, you use thumb guards of various sorts?”

 

“Yes, many of us who are fastest with the short bow use them,” Merritt showed Neal. “And wider ‘V’s in the arrows.”

 

“We call them nocks. Wider for faster nocking, then. Good. Double rather than triple fletched arrows.

..........“Mind you, I doubt that fast shooting will be that important, I think there will not be many men – if any! – and we have them trapped so they must come at us one or at the most two at a time. If any of you using a short bow feel anything odd, _immediately_ fall back and give space to the long-bow archers.”      

...........He looked at Merritt’s arrows. “You nock without looking…? I must come and train with you, if I can think of a way of letting Leran know I know about this – er - sport!” Neal hummed with pleasure at another illegal activity he could enjoy and not incur his Lord’s wrath! What fun to try and shoot from a moving horse, for example!

...........“Oh, here is Sir Mozzie.”

 

Mozzie showed him the periscope. “It’s a little ‘Heath Robinson’, but the angles are right. Hard to get enough light to give a good image, though, Neal. I whited all the inner surfaces, but still not wonderful.”

 

Neal answered in Sheel, “I am sure it will do. Now, Mozzie, I need you to show these people where the entrances of the lower dungeon are. We need archers posted an arrow’s-flight using a short bow from each entrance or exit and a fire set all around or in front, however it has to be to effectively block their exit. The fire will force men back if they try and leave, and give the archers a good target as they force their way through the flames.”

 

“What if their…weapons can act from further than one arrow-flight?” Mozzie hissed, concerned.

 

“From the way the deaths occurred, I think they needed to have their…weapon…quite close. This is the best we can do, Moz. Probably this is just a practise for our warriors, and one day we will laugh at our plan to get absolutely nothing out of the lower dungeon!”

 

“Ever the optimist.”

 

“You betcha!” Neal said to Moz, in English, then turned back to the group. “When we give the signal, you light the fire – I have fire-bugs for you – here – and get well back. We will approach the entrance nearest the main castle, from the outer part of the lowest dungeon…I think they will be furthest from that, but I am guessing, I do not understand the motivation of these beings, plant or human!...if I see anything, we just keep the fires burning and the archers in place and yell for reinforcements.”

 

“If they will not surrender, I will put something together to poison them…it is the lowest dungeon, not that difficult to isolate.”

 

Neal shook his head a little. Mozzie was still sometimes a conundrum to him! “What about the archers who will have to be down there?”

 

“I have gas masks.” Mozzie said it calmly, in English, and Neal grinned despite himself. Mozzie probably had cases of the things back on Earth, in every safe-house, just in case the government – or governments, or governments-and-evil-corporations – ever tried to smoke him out!

 

“There is the water-well, too, but we protect that we can not if the evil beings attack it. I believe they would have done that before now if they were going to. The castle has a great amount of water stored in closed reservoirs, and the season of the snows is not that far off.

.........."Does everyone understand?”

 

“Some of us will be standing outside the castle walls, Master Neal, Sir Mozzie,” Merritt mentioned, trying not to sound critical, “with illegal weapons.”

 

“Yes, I know. You will have to be careful and try and avoid being too obvious. Try and look as though you are standing around a fire to keep warm, and try hard not to look as though you are from Steel Keep! _We_ will try and do this quickly!”

 

“Those entrances without the Keep walls can be blocked with rocks, too, Neal,” Mozzie said, thoughtfully.

 

“This is a good idea. We have some time till full darkness. Let us leave our weapons and other things here, and block those exits we can as well as we can with large rocks, remembering that they are supposed to be secret and that we want to return them to looking non-descript as soon as possible after this. Directly after the evening meal is finished, we will reconvene here and continue with the rest of our plan.

“If anyone has a better plan, or improvements to this plan, they can share with us then.”

 

 

Everyone carefully stored their things in one of the foaling stalls, which were bigger than normal, as there needed to be a place for the new foal where the mother, sometimes inexperienced, could not step on it. Neal found a lock and locked it…the mares in foal were valuable and were often given special care and protection. No-one should check the stall, Klenalth was not expecting any horses and certainly not mares in foal at this time of year! He gave the key to Joster, who would be able to be here first.

 

Throughout the meal, Neal and Mozzie kept up a humorous exchange with June, all about Neal’s – or Byron’s – fancy clothing. Peter, unaware of the plan, helped them, as did Elizabeth, remembering the times that ‘The Hat’ had played a role in a case or had been forgotten somewhere embarrassing or some such silliness. Some of the tales were completely fabricated about the independent and personal life of The Hat. Most of the people at the dinner table had not encountered ‘The Hat’, and were amused by the stories, so that any nervousness on the part of Joster, Merritt and the other chosen warriors remained unnoticed.

 

Leran actually asked Steel if he could speak to him after the meal was over, as they should order more equipment, and Neal and Mozzie shot each other a quick glance. Perfect! They left the table together, talking, making it harder for anyone to call one or the other.

 

However, that didn’t stop June from calling to both of them!

         “Boys! I have missed you this last little while! Can we have a cup of tea? – I won’t be able to stay up long, I need to catch up on some sleep.”

 

Neal was about to say that no, they didn’t have time, when Mozzie accepted. Mozzie wasn’t nearly as sure that all of them would be available for a nice cup of tea after tonight. He had an uneasy feeling.

He remembered the last time he’d had a feeling this bad…the first time Neal had pulled a heist with another crew, one that Mozzie had warned him against. It hadn’t ended well, and it was pure luck and Neal’s courage – and his own ingenuity – that saved Neal from jail or worse. Neal had ended up with a broken leg (and multiple abrasions and contusions) and had been lucky to heal perfectly enough to free-climb and run from FBI Burke! He wished he could talk Neal out of this, but he knew the signs.

He’d had the same feeling, slightly less severe, when Neal had hared off like a crazed cheetah after Kate when Moz had known it was a trap. At least then he hadn’t been hurt, at the time, anyway. Mozzie always wondered what Neal wasn’t telling him about prison. No-one could ever accuse Mozzie of being naïve! He knew the chances of a handsome kid like Neal, who just wasn’t good at violence, being ‘just fine’ in prison, despite Neal’s protestations.

 

So the three sat and drank tea in June’s room and filled each other in on the little things that make life bearable… June’s new puppy, the family members she loved, her plans for Christmas. And Mozzie and Neal’s desire to steal their grandmother.

June’s dark eyes twinkled. “Byron would have loved you both so much!”

 

“The problem is the empathy-thing,” Mozzie pointed out again.

 

“Yes, but we’re professionals!” June smiled. “We like stretching, finding new horizons! I won $2,500-odd in a five card stud game (not my favourite!) against some very nasty customers last week!”

 

“June! We weren’t even there to…yes, I know! We’re all as bad as each other!” Neal grinned at her.

 

“Well, I don’t pay income tax, Neal, dear, for the same reason: money shouldn’t be under the control of bad people!”

 

Neal laughed. “You and Mozzie! That poor baby through there will be totally confused if his God-parents are all as vocal as you two will be! And the new governments are a great deal better, admit it! Real, flesh-and-blood people! And _no_ income tax!”

 

“I admit it, dear one. It’s just a habit!”

 

They ended their little soiree with hugs all round and Neal and Mozzie jumped to the stables again, and hurried to join their band of illegal aliens. Illegally-armed aliens, at all events!

 

 

No-one had any ideas to improve the plan.

 

Joster and Merritt had decided on the groups and ten of the warriors trotted off to beyond the outer wall. They had a Sensitive with them, and so did the inside group. Neal and Mozzie, along with all their warriors made their way to the first dungeon without being seen – Neal peering round doorways and making sure that there was no-one around before the group hurried through to the next hiding place.

 

Everyone but Mozzie breathed a sigh of relief when they reached that undetected. No-one was likely to disturb them here after dinner had been served. This area just wasn’t used much. Quiet as mice – whatever the local equivalent was! - they placed the tinder and the wood in front of the entrance off to the only entrance on the one side, extending about twenty feet into the room, but leaving a good yard clear between wall and what Mozzie mentally called the firewall. It would hopefully keep any nasty characters from getting at their valuables!

 

Neal tied two ropes around his waist and gave the coils to Mozzie. (I‘ll keep talking in my ear-bug. If you don’t hear me for more than a second or two, yank me back!)

 

(You should be wearing bells, like the High Priests of old…imagine finding that original breast-plate!)

 

(Mozzie – concentrate! And anyway, that High Priest had to be totally cleansed! I doubt there were sufficient sacrificial animals to do the job in this particular case!

         (And bells would rather give us away!)

 

Mozzie shrugged. He couldn’t stop Neal. He could just try and mitigate the damage. (Hopefully, we’re on a wild goose-foot chase!) he said.

 

(No, no – then we have NO idea where to look! This must be it! Pray that this is it!)

 

(Hm…prayer. That might go back to how many lambs we need to sacrifice…!)

 

Neal carefully took the periscope, looked back to check that everyone was ready and alert. It looked like a band of porcupines about to race! Each of them held at least three arrows, one nocked, bow drawn, the others ready to be brought into play as soon as the first flew. He could almost feel the pressure of their stares!

He grinned a little and stepped close to the break in the wall that led to the farthest, and least-accessed of the dungeon areas. Mozzie, holding the ropes with one hand, leaned down and rolled the light-bug containers into the far room. Then he held the ropes with enough tension to gauge what Neal was doing.

 

(Can’t see enough!) Neal told Mozzie, and with no further warning, let the periscope drop and walked into the back dungeon as Mozzie hurriedly played out just sufficient rope.

 

At once Mozzie felt the ropes tighten then immediately loosen, and he heard Neal fall.

 

He yelled, “Light the fires! Light all the fires!”, dragged Neal bodily out of the room, yanked him gracelessly into a fireman’s lift and jumped to the Greatroom, yelling for Lira.

 

He carefully lowered Neal onto the large leather couch. His heart was pounding uncomfortably, pounding him breathless. He did what he knew to do, getting more frantic by the second. Neal had no pulse at his carotid. There was no breath when he held dampened fingers in front of Neal’s mouth.

 

He had quite a lot of experience with emergency first aid - most of that with Neal – and to Mozzie, Neal appeared to be dead. He started mouth-to-mouth, his eyes streaming, and then Lira was behind him. She gently moved him out of the way and sank down next to Neal’s body.

 

She didn’t look back at Moz, but said, sadly, “The same signs. No damage. No breath. No life.”

 

Mozzie swallowed a sob. Then he said, “I have something to do. I will be back almost immediately. Neal’s last – the last thing I heard Neal say… Please Lira – help him! _Please!”_ And he hurried from the room, wiping his face.

 

It seemed that he jumped back within a minute or two, but many things had changed. Lira was holding Neal across her lap and they were surrounded by other Chiri. Mozzie counted seven, and as he watched another jumped in.

They closed in around Lira and her burden, their faces grave. The two ropes were draggled across the floor like curvilinear art nouveau designs around magnificent alabaster statues. Mozzie pushed past these tall, elegant beings without apology and knelt by his friend, taking his limp fingers in his.

 

 

 

Peter got to the door first, though El was close behind. He ran the first three steps, then halted so abruptly that El ran into him. He gazed in horror. Neal was lying partly on Lira, partly on the couch, head fallen back showing that elegant neck and flawless jawline. His shapely hands had fallen open, supplicating. She leaned over him, her hair veiling over her face.

 

They made a perfect, inhumanly beautiful _Pietà._

Around them the other Chiri stood like solemn, grieving angels. The tendrils of their hair drifted unconsciously, it seemed, towards the young man they could not help.

Peter went forward slowly. “He’s – Neal’s - ?”

 

Elizabeth gave a cry of pain and ran forward and knelt by Mozzie, touching Neal’s hand. It was unnaturally cold.

 

Then Lord Steel of Steel Keep, in the full wrath of his station strode into the room, followed closely by Brak, demanding loudly and forcefully, “What has happened! What is - ?” – and then he saw Neal, and his throat closed. Lira looked up at him and shook her head.

 

“He was – attacked by the same evil, Caerrovon,” Lira said, softly, her voice mourning like a dirge. “Mozzie brought him to me very quickly, but I fear that there is nothing that can be done.”

 

 

As he stood, frozen, all of Steel’s training, all the discipline of his rank came to his aid.

 

 

He wanted to tell Lira that she lied, but he knew she never did.

 

 

He wanted nothing more than to fall at Lira’s feet, take Neal in his arms, hold him close and give in to his emotions.

 

 

But that is not what lords do, those who are responsible not just for themselves or for a few, but for hundreds of souls.

 

He asked, his voice ragged, “Do we know how it was done? Can we yet take action against them and stop this?”

 

Mozzie turned and said, “It was the plants. The energy-draining plants, Brak knows. N-neal wanted to trap them, and we have…but as he…as he…as he lost consciousness he said into the ear-bug, ‘Plants are victims, don’t hurt them,’ and your men have the back portion of the lower dungeon surrounded. As far as we know, they are only located there in this Keep.”

 

Steel stood, holding himself together by his iron will alone, said quietly to Lira, “Is there anything you can do? Is there anything _I_ can do?”

 

Lira shook her head, her long, bluish hair wrapping itself around Neal’s wrists, around his neck, touching his hair. Steel took one last look at Neal, turned and walked away.

 

He blocked out what had happened to his son as much as he could. He knew death, had seen that cold touch on other faces. There was nothing he could do for Neal, and his son had given everything to stop these deaths. The very least Steel could do was continue the fight. He hurried down the stairs, followed closely by Brak, and found a group of young, determined warriors, some on the verge of disintegrating, many of them standing on guard against the possible attack of the enemy with tears streaming down their faces. Brak took in all the preparations and nodded to himself.

 

Joster saw the Lord first and bowed his head. “I failed, my Lord, and I’m sorry. I will give you my sword, but now we have the killers trapped with fire and arrows, as Master Neal and Sir Mozzie intended. Mozzie told us not to kill the plants if possible, but to remain on guard here and pick off any humans that come through. We have heard them in there, Lord, shouting, though the words are muffled.”

 

“These are the plants Brak told me about, many seasons ago?”

 

“So Sir Mozzie and…and Master Neal believed. So they leave no trace, but just suck the breath from –

...........“How is he, my Lord?”

 

Steel shook his head, and Joster and Merritt screwed up their faces for a moment, trying not to break down. Steel said to them, “You obeyed his orders and we have the villains trapped. There will, Great Creator willing, be no further deaths here. You have done well.”

 

“But Lord, Master Neal - ”

 

“My son knew the risks, men – as we all do when we engage the enemy. Not only did he locate them, but let us know with his – but let us know that the plants are being used by others.

..........“I know not how, but he has given us time to think and plan. Keep the men captive behind the walls. Who is here – oh, Tembor. Can you contact someone on the outer wall and give them that message? I will be there shortly. Can some of you fetch more wood to keep these fires burning, and I will send reinforcements here and to the other groups as well. The smoke will find it’s way out through the upper floors.

..........“If necessary, we will starve them out.”

 

 

 

The other warriors, standing outside the walls, had heard what had happened to Neal. They were shocked and upset, but it had not hit them with full force yet. They stood with deep darkness behind them, the yellow glare of the flames making chiselled, sculptural shapes of bodies and faces. Into this tableau rode Lord Steel, followed by a whole group of older warriors.

 

“Lord Steel!” Obrin, another half-Tassin and this group’s Sensitive, said, sharply, and everyone stood a little straighter.

 

Lark, the most senior of the youngsters stationed here, and their best female archer, stood forward and asked, “Lord Steel, is it true about Neal – Master Neal?”

 

Lord Steel swallowed as he dismounted, partly controlling his own grief, partly at the sincere feeling so many of his Keep had developed for the Earthling he had adopted. He nodded.

 

“Lark, have you heard anything of those beneath us in the dungeons? Have they attempted to escape this way?”

 

“They have not, Lord.

..........“Lord Steel – we are so sorry.”

 

“Thank you. When we have time, we will mourn for him, men. For now, as always, we finish his fight. It seems as though this may not be the way the enemy entered and they may not even know of these exits. I will have older men block off the area all around so that we may use our arrows unseen throughout the coming days, if necessary, till we find a way to control the men who did this to our people.

.........“Wait till they have brought more wood, stand your ground, and in two candlemarks or so, unless further movement is seen from down there, you may go and rest and be ready to take your posts here mid-morning. Is there anything else I need to know?”

 

“Nothing, my Lord – but he was worthy to be your son and well-loved.”

 

Steel nodded and turned away from the light. These trainees and young warriors had seldom encountered a sudden death of a comrade within minutes of speaking with him. They were holding up well, considering. He would commend them, later.

 

He spoke to the older men who had come to reinforce and then relieve the younger soldiers that Joster had chosen. When he felt that all would be looked after here, he mounted his horse and rode swiftly back around to the stables, letting the wind blow the tears off his face. Brak couldn’t keep up, but followed a little way behind.

 

He gave his stallion to a young stable boy, who was shocked at the news and further shaken by his Lord’s demeanour. Steel nodded at him and walked away. He made himself walk towards the Greatroom…Neal himself had called it that and it had stuck. Steel had seen death and he understood death. He understood how easily the mind refuses to accept the fact if it is not faced with evidence, especially when the loss is new. He did not want to go within and see the proof.

 

It seemed impossible that Neal was gone. Neal, whom he had just been teasing about his visits to their sister Keeps. His mind supplied a series of pictures – those bright, laughing blue eyes when they were joking together; the brilliant grin full of excitement and delight when he told him to go and buy art supplies, that he was going to school; sitting unasked at Steel’s feet just to be near him; the grubby lump kneeling on his bedroom floor covered in cob-webs, for once truly compliant and tractable, unsure of how Steel would deal with him - and throughout all their time together that penetrating, creative mind and, more important by far, that loving heart.

 

Neal made almost everyone else seem a little two-dimensional and dull. Not that _he_ saw them that way, he usually made them feel wonderful about themselves. _As he did me. But how am I going to go forward without him?_

He went into the room. Everything was still. Neal’s body – Neal – was lying on the couch. The Chiri were still gathered, but they were comforting Lira, a low keening chorus came from the group, raising the hair on Steel’s neck. El, Mozzie and Peter were standing, tears on their faces, holding Neal’s lifeless hands as though trying to warm them. Diana was combing his dark curls with fingers that shook visibly, sobbing. June stood at his feet facing her boy. Her eyes were closed and her hands were clasped.

 

Steel turned to the Chiri and went to Lira. “Thank you all for coming,” he said.

 

“I called them all, Caerrovon,” Lira said, and her eyes were huge and looked almost blind, “hoping with our combined energy…but he is no longer there.” She swallowed and said, “He was very happy, with you, you know. I hope you know how much he loved you. And I know he is happy now…but I grieve for you.”

 

“If he loved me, it is probably no more than I loved him, Lira. Will you stay a while, please?”

 

“My friends will go about their normal duties, Caerrovon. I will stay unless there is an emergency of great magnitude.”

 

Steel hadn’t asked her to stay for the death-rites, but they both knew that was what he was asking. The other Chiri nodded to Steel, went and gently gathered round the other mourners, still crooning in those eldritch tones, their hair braiding, weaving, enclosing them all, and Neal within them and then, one by one, winked out. Silence fell starkly.

 

Steel and Lira walked softly over to stand by the couch that had become a bier. No-one said anything. The only sound now was the harsh breathing and Diana’s sobs. Steel thought that he had never seen Neal so still, other than when he had massaged him the other morning and his son had slept – and he had to grit his teeth not to break down.

 

_Thank the Great Creator that I gave him permission to forge that painting. Thank Him that I never punished Neal for his good-natured mischief. Thank Him that I told Neal that I loved him. Probably not enough, but I did._

_I will find out the details, but for now, I must let them mourn. I told Neal he was the keystone in these relationships. Perhaps his death can weld us as did his life._

Steel did not feel as though he cared. For anything.

Mozzie took out his huge kerchief and wiped his face and blew his nose and walked unsteadily towards him. “Lord Steel, you should know what we were doing and how – how this happened.”

 

Caerrovon put his arm round Mozzie and said, “I know enough, dear Moz. You and he have made the first breakthrough in this case and we should be able to stop the killings, now, if we follow that lead.”

 

Mozzie leaned against Steel’s side and said, his breath catching now and then, “It was Peter’s idea that made us think this through. And then we could only think of one area they could be hiding, if jump they could not. Neal wanted to put them under siege, but thought that if sure we were not that they were there that they could still be active elsewhere, could still kill. He looked at Theo and his mothers and bear to wait he could not. He was always …he gave little thought to his own safety, his own life, my Lord.”

 

“I am proud of you both, Mozzie.”

 

“I should have insisted that I went through the passageway, my Lord. I know you – you and he - ”

 

“You will stop that right now, Mozzie. I loved Neal with a unique love. I love you just as much and would have been just as distressed if your places were reversed. You did what you could to keep him safe and help him when he was injured. Thank you.”

 

Mozzie nodded.

 

There was another period of quiet. Then June took a few steps over to Steel and looked up at him, totally and strangely composed.

         “My Lord Steel,” she said, “I know we are aliens here. I know most of us believe in a Higher Power, a Great Creator. But I have a deep and abiding faith and I would ask you to respect it. He is your son, but he was mine first.”

 

“Yes, Lady June,” Steel said, trying to comfort but not really understanding where this conversation was going. His heart was so full of misery that he found it hard to follow her.

 

“Can I ask you to comply with my beliefs?” June asked.

 

“I’m sure I can, Lady. You were truly like a mother to Neal.”

 

“Then please, can I ask that no-one speaks of my boy as dead. Can no-one act as though he was dead, passed away, any of those terms. I would not have us give power to death and destruction. Yes, Lira, you are the expert healer, but there are powers stronger than yours. Can you carry Neal to his room? I will look after him.”

 

Steel was aware that both Peter and El made small, sharp movements and, when he looked at them, saw horror and pity on their faces. Diana was wearing a puzzled frown. Mozzie was just watching June with soft eyes.

 

Steel wanted to say something to June but, after her dictum, found it hard to find words that would not transgress it!

 

June nodded and said, “I will go and make his room ready for him. You may bring him in five minutes, my Lord.”

         She hurried out.

 

They all watched her go, and after a good minute, Peter asked, “Does she not realise?”

 

“She realises, Boss,” Diana said, softly. “If she did not, she would not have asked us not to say he was…”

 

El was crying softly and whispered, “It may be that she cannot accept the truth, that she has had some kind of breakdown. She loved him so very much. They were closer than family.”

 

“Lira?” Steel asked. “What can I do?”

 

“I heal the body, Caerrovon, when I can. I can heal emotions and other problems. I cannot heal the spirit and if June’s spirit is so wounded, time alone may heal it.”

 

“So – so what do I do?”

 

Peter said, “We must make her see! It is horrible, pretending that our poor …friend…is merely sleeping, and will awaken. Look at him, Lord. Was Neal ever this still, this calm? Brain cells die within minutes! The rest follow…! This is not Neal!”

 

“Peter,” Lira said, “I have no idea what June is thinking, feeling, hoping. But if we fight her, she will fight back. She believes that Neal will waken, and if we try and go against that, it will hurt her tremendously. She will be doubly traumatised.”

 

“So what am I supposed to do?” Steel asked Lira, like a little boy, lost and far from home.

 

“Take Neal to her. I think if some time passes, she will rouse to the truth, and accept the facts. The rest – we can obey her wishes. It is little enough she asks, in the face of this tragedy.”

 

“But Lira – you know – a dead body - ” Peter stopped, not wanting to go on, speaking about putrefaction to his nearest loved ones. “It is pitiful and quite horrible.”

 

“We will keep the room cold and hope that soon the dear lady rouses from her dream,” Lira said. “If it becomes critical, we will re-think our actions.”

 

“I will carry him, Master Caerrovon,” said Brak, sympathetically.

 

“No, Brak. I want to do this for June – for Neal.”

 

Steel scooped up his son’s body that seemed smaller and lighter, as though his spirit had had much weight. To feel the total lack of reaction to being lifted, the total lack of muscle tension, was a blow to his heart as he cradled him so that Neal’s head rested on Steel’s chest. He carried him to his room where June had turned back the bed, had lit some candles. The others followed along, feeling that it was disrespectful to June, and Neal, not to do so.

 

Mozzie just wanted to stay with his friend, partner and brother as long as possible. This…body…did not look much like him, though there were some similarities. Enough to make Mozzie want to stay with it. Part of Mozzie was wishing with a huge amount of energy that Neal was pretending, that he would suddenly sit up and open those beautiful blue eyes and laugh at having fooled everyone. The pragmatic part of Mozzie knew that those blue eyes would never look the same again.

 

Steel laid Neal as gently as possible in the bed he’d always used when he was at the Keep, from the time he was brought here as a newly-bought slave. June pulled a light blanket over him, setting his arms at his sides and tidying the curls off his forehead.

 

“I will stay and watch him, Lord Steel,” she said, calmly. “I will call you if anything changes.”

 

Elizabeth sobbed again, and left hurriedly and Peter went after her.

 

“Dear June,” Diana said, tears pouring down her cheeks, “I love you. Thank you. May I stay and pray with you? I haven’t for a while, you know.”

 

“Of course, Diana.”

 

“I will also stay,” Mozzie said, “and though I am not sure exactly what I believe, I believe _something._ There is plenty of evidence for something. _”_

 

Steel watched the Earthlings draw around Neal’s bed and felt excluded. He didn’t know their rituals, their beliefs. Then suddenly he knew that Tamlin was calling him.

 

“I need to go, I am being called. But I will return,” he said, and left. He hurried to Di and Tammy’s suite, fearing that something was amiss with the front line of soldiers. He left Brak standing guard outside Neal’s rooms.

 

He was startled to see Caleb – Jones – standing with Tammy. They were both looking at Theo, fast asleep in his mothers arms.

 

“So where’s the – other – happy mother? I know it’s a little late, surely she should be here? I’m sorry, I didn’t know the time here!” Jones said, jovially, chucking the tiny baby’s chin gently.

 

Tammy looked helplessly at Steel. Her eyes were red and Jones suddenly demanded, “There’s nothing wrong with Diana, is there? Where is she! What’s wrong!” Jones looked from his face to hers and became more agitated still. “Tell me! She’s my partner! I love her!”

 

Steel groaned. The nice man had come to celebrate a birth, had come to see a darling baby, and the Keep was in mourning. Steel said, “Come with me, Jones. Diana is well and the baby is healthy, also, as you see.”

 

Steel led Jones to his study and shut the door after them.

 

“It is not Diana, Jones. It is Neal. Your Peter gave him an idea and he and Mozzie followed it. The deaths were caused by some kind of a plant that can leach the energy from a body. They found the plants, and the humans that were using them as weapons to kill, and we have them trapped in our Keep…but during that Neal came too close to the plants.”

 

Jones gazed at Steel in total disbelief. Then he demanded, “You’re telling me that Neal is - !”

 

Steel put up his hands. “Wait. Before you say anything…for some reason, June wishes us not to say anything other than that Neal will recover.”

 

“Have you called Lira? You must have called Lira!”

 

“Lira and a great many other Chiri came with great urgency to try and help…and June disagrees with them. She had me take Neal’s…she had me take Neal to his room, where she intends to care for him.”

 

“You’re saying, Sir, that June has a …is trying to look after… you’re saying that June has lost her mind?”

 

“I am saying that grief does strange things to people, Jones, and I have no idea what is going on with June. She is an Earthling.

         “Peter and El are horrified, pitying and … sickened?... with this turn of events. Mozzie and Diana are with June – and Neal.”

 

“How completely dreadful, Sir! Neal was – we were friends. He was a great asset. How terrible.”

 

“Yes. I am sorry you came with the expectation of a birth celebration and find us – as you see us.”

 

“Can I see him? Neal? Perhaps I can speak to June, make her see - ”

 

“Lira is agreed that to shove the truth as we see it down June’s throat may do her more harm than good, Jones. Lira hopes that she will watch him, lying there without movement, without breath, and will realise for herself, and that will be more gentle.”

 

“I do see, Sir,” Jones said. “How terrible. You were fond of Neal, weren’t you, Lord Steel.”

 

“Yes, I was – am - very fond of Neal.”

 

“I am sorry for your loss.”

 

“We will not call it a loss. For June.”

 

“Yes – of course. I would like to see them if they are still awake.”

 

“I think few will sleep through the night. I will accompany you to his room.” As they walked, Steel thought, but did not say, that perhaps only his beloved son, who often wandered the Keep in the early hours, would finally sleep deeply through this night.

 

 

 

Jones entered the room and Steel heard his quick intake of breath.

 

“Neal!” he said. “Oh, Neal!”

 

“Jones, say nothing negative here!” June commanded. She looked anything but crazy. She sat like a queen, hands folded in her lap. Diana looked up, her eyes red and swollen with prolonged weeping. Mozzie glanced round at Jones, then went back to staring at Neal as though just his gaze could bring him back.

 

“B-but June, dear,” Jones started, his tone had a definite patronising tone to it, and she cut him off,

        

“Don’t you start with me, young man! I know your upbringing! You sang in the choir! How dare you say you don’t believe in miracles! Have you truly been indoctrinated as much as Mozzie believes most folks are, by Corporate America?

         “Well, no matter. Miracles have saved my life, and they’ll save Neal’s.”

 

“Yes, but - ”

 

“If you give me one more ‘but’ in here, Clinton Jones, it’d better be the one you sit on, and believe me, I’ll paddle it hard! Get out if you can’t be supportive!”

 

“Diana - ?” Jones begged for some semblance of sanity.

 

“I’m staying here with June, Clint. Tell Tammy, if you see her, please.”

 

“I will, Diana,” Steel told her. “Come, Jones. I understand not, but it is not my place to query. Look at the miracles needed just to get you home to Earth!”

 

The two closed the door on the odd little scene and Jones said, despairingly, “I suppose you can’t have a …everything is on hold until June…?”

 

“That is correct, Jones. Come, Ophera will have organised a room for you.”

 

“I will stay here, for now, Master Caerrovon,” Brak said. “He should have an honour guard. He gave – he did what he did for all of us.”

 

“Thank you, Brak,” Steel was grateful that others were taking things on themselves, he couldn’t seem to think clearly.

 

Ophera was putting the finishing touches to a room for Jones, with Whim’s help. They were both sad and spoke little.

 

Steel went to Tammy’s suite and told her with his thoughts that Diana was staying with June and to look after Theo and get some sleep. Once that was done, Steel just stood like a piece of furniture in the corridor, not really aware of the passage of time. Brak came up beside him and took his arm, surprising him.

 

“Come, Master. You need to sleep. Klenalth has taken over the watch, and Leran will relieve him in a couple of candlemarks.”

 

Steel was astonished in a vague sort of way that such high-ranking men were taking the guard duty, but his mind didn’t seem able to cling to the question for long enough to ask Brak about it. Brak steered him to his suite and he opened the door automatically.

 

“Caerrovon, dear son, do you want me to stay with you tonight?” Brak asked.

 

“Brak,” Steel answered, giving him a hug, “been alone I have not. Begun to process this I have not. Please be not offended if I say that, while I am very grateful for all you have been doing, I need to be alone?”

 

“I will be just here, outside your rooms, if you should need anything, Caerrovon.”

 

“Thank you, Brak.”

 

Steel gently closed the door, thinking sadly that it had taken the loss of an adopted son to regain his adopted father, and walked through towards his bed. He looked down at it. It seemed such a short time since Neal had slept there so peacefully, and yet also – a million frigid winters….

 

Steel lay down on the bed, face down, as though trying to gather the warmth from Neal’s body, long dissipated. His own body writhed in a sudden wrenching spasm of physical pain. He finally allowed himself to break down, and he sobbed quietly but uncontrollably.

 

 

 

End of Chapter 20

 


	21. Incorruption becomes corrupt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much as it says on the tin

 

 

  

 

 

The next day was a strange, dark nightmare at Steel Keep. Nothing really happened. Soldiers took shifts at Leran’s command, watching over the dungeon. The men within made no noise.

 

June stayed with Neal, praying and watching over _him_. Various men took turns standing guard outside the door, including Peter. He was grieving badly for his erstwhile friend and partner. This was all he could do for him, now.

 

Diana, exhausted, had gone and cuddled up with Tammy and finally fallen asleep. Mozzie dragged his bedding into the room with June and slept on the floor there. If June slept at all…and no-one saw her do so… she did it sitting in the chair, between silent prayers.

 

The rest of the Keep tried to go on as usual, but everyone was melancholy. There was little conversation. No laughter.

 

Steel, when he came to breakfast, having nearly fallen over Brak, who had also dragged his bedding outside his Master’s door, thought that he never remembered the Keep this still, as though waiting for something, holding its breath.

 

He checked on the men, even tried calling out to the villains within the deepest dungeon, but received no response.

 

He checked on June, who appeared not to have moved at all. She smiled at him and said, “Everything will be all right, Lord. You will see.” Steel thought he had never heard anything so sad in all his days. He looked down at…Neal. He, like Mozzie, wished this could be the ultimate Caffrey con…he asked Mozzie to join him for some tea, and that man followed him, his steps dragging wearily.

 

“Come, eat something, Moz.”

 

“Not very hungry, Caerrovon.”

 

“You are not doing Neal, or his memory, any good by making yourself unwell. It is an order…Ophera has made your favourite snacks and there is some excellent wine which I will not allow you to drink on an empty stomach.”

 

Mozzie managed a smile, took a small open sandwich affair and forced himself to eat it.

 

“Come on – they are very good. Eat another. And tell me the details of how you and Neal agreed to do what you did?”

 

Mozzie smiled a little. Steel was appealing to his intellect, his strength, pulling him away from emotion. Mozzie would always find it difficult to be as open and demonstrative as Neal, but he did love his adopted father! He hoped they could build an even stronger bond, to make up for the missing link, the one who did the connecting. He went through their thinking for Steel.

 

“Why did you not come to me with this, Moz?”

 

“Very simple reason, Caerrovon. If we had, it would be you lying on a bier somewhere, draped with ceremonial Steel colours.”

 

“B-but - ”

 

“Either Neal or myself are less of a loss to the Keep than you are, Lord, and if you think a moment you will realise that I am right.”

 

Mozzie explained the discussions with Joster and Merritt and why they had done what they did. “I am truly sorry for what happened, Caerrovon. You can guess how alone I feel at present.”

 

“Do you want to go to Sally, Mozzie?”

 

“No, Sally is with friends and there is no reason she should be made miserable earlier than necessary. I think it helps June that I am present and do not try and argue her into a different state of mind.”

 

“She is no better?”

 

“I do not even know how to answer that, Caerrovon. She, in her delusion, is happier than anyone else here. I wish more than you can possibly imagine that I could fully join her.”

 

 

 

After an early supper, the Keep – other than June and Mozzie - and Joster, standing guard without Neal’s room and the shift in the dungeon - took itself to bed early, exhausted by lack of sleep and a surfeit of grief.

 

 

 

 

When Steel woke the next morning, it was a particularly beautiful day. He looked out of his window and wondered, as everyone does, how the planet kept revolving, how nature could be so uncaring.

 

“I must put an end to June’s vigil today,” he said to himself, sadly. He didn’t want to upset June, he had immense respect for her strength and her ethics, but something had to be done, and he was the only one who could do it. “I must call Lira, in case it precipitates a serious reaction in her. She has been so brave and has done without sleep and food for so long…”

 

He ate what seemed a tasteless breakfast, wondering how many supplies the men hiding with their killer plants had to keep them going. Mozzie had told him he could kill the men, but might kill the plants also. They were not like any plants they knew, or they could use quite high levels of carbon dioxide, which would kill the men but merely help the plants grow! Not understanding the plant at all, and trying to keep them alive in case Neal’s quick impression had been correct seemed close to impossible.

 

_Perhaps we should just kill them all…plants and men alike. We do not know that Neal was right – or that Mozzie heard him correctly. He might have said that he was a victim, kill the plants! Mozzie has several ways of killing every living thing in that large room indiscriminately._

_I think my brain has ceased to function properly! I never knew grief could be so exhausting._

_No, no – I must trust that between them, my sons are correct. I will not yet endanger the plants. Yet._

No-one really knew what to say to Lord Steel when they met him. He was stoic and went about his business, saying little, but the pain he was feeling radiated off him. El and Peter stayed in their suite as much as possible, dealing with their own thoughts and regrets and comforting each other. Mozzie reverted to his former persona and became quiet and reclusive, near-invisible, just being there for June.

 

 

After the mid-day meal, all the Earthlings gathered in Tammy and Diana’s rooms. All except Mozzie and June. They just wanted to be together and work through their feelings.

 

“How can we help June?” Jones asked. “I think this would be easier if we could have a…funeral. Closure, you know? This is so pathetic, this clinging to a mad idea out of desperation.”

 

Elizabeth, her hair pulled off her face in a ragged pony-tail, and no make-up, nodded. “Though I think we all understand how she feels! How could Neal – _Neal!_ – ever be dead? He was always the one lighting up a room, making the people he met feel alive on dull and rainy days.”

 

“Always with some crazy scheme, no thought for danger or consequences,” Peter nodded, remembering.

 

“Always ready to give of himself as though he had unlimited time, love, life to give,” Tammy added.

 

“I always envied him his lust for life,” Diana said, smiling a little. “You know, most of us find a bakery we like, or a restaurant, or a wine, and stick to it most of the time – he was always wanting to try anything: new cuisine, a new delicacy, a new artist’s work – well, he’d look at it, and then try it for himself, I bet!”

 There were some smiles. “Yeah, he was like that. And though he’d gone so many places and done so many things, and would give his time to people, it was as though _he_ never had enough days to try everything, and he had to try it _now!”_ Peter agreed. “I guess now we’ll never know – unless Mozzie will tell us, and I seriously doubt that! – how many Caffrey’s are hanging in galleries and museums and private residences posing as Some-famous-body-else’s! He truly was a master, unique. So multi-facetted.”

 “And if he did feel as you say, he was right. He didn’t have as many days as he – or we- hoped he’d have,” Elizabeth said.

 “That’s why, that impatience, he seemed so young, almost childish, to me sometimes,” Peter went on, sadly. “I called him Peter Pan, and – he never will grow up, now. He’ll stay our young, excitable friend forever!”

 Tammy brought out a particularly nice wine Mozzie had given them. It was local, made from berries, and a deep blue colour. She poured glasses for everyone.

 

“A toast…to Neal?” Peter suggested.

 

“To Neal – to Life!” Diana said. “So we remember what he taught all of us about living!”

 

“To Neal – to Life!” they all repeated, smiling a little, and drank of the special wine.

 

 

  _  
_

Late that afternoon, Steel was bracing himself to go and tell June that the funeral must go ahead. He wasn’t sure that keeping the body there was yet hurting anyone, in a way he had come to terms with Neal’s death by seeing that still form, which seemed to his sad eyes to be slowly disappearing.

 

 _I wonder!_ _I wonder if Lira could do to…Neal…what she did to Theo – just reach in and take him and translate him away!_

 

This seemed as though it really might work to save June’s sanity. He went to find Diana.

         “Diana, tell me if you can…what does June believe will happen to Neal…what happens when people die? What are her beliefs?”

 

“If someone good dies, my Lord, they go to Heaven, a beautiful place where everyone is young, there are no tears or sadness or illness…nothing bad.”

 

“So if Neal…died…to June, that is where he would go?”

 

“Yes. She’d hope that.”

 

Steel explained his idea. “Then, he would just be gone and she would see that he had gone and perhaps accept that he was now in Heaven?”

 

Diana looked troubled. “Neal can translate...could…well, June knows that Neal translated, before. So if he disappeared, she might not think he had gone to Heaven, she might think he had gone to – New York, perhaps!”

 

“Oh, that would not help!”

 

“And she is not wanting Neal to go to Heaven – well, she does, of course, eventually! – but now she wants him to come back, to be alive.”

 

“She believes that can happen?” Steel felt a desperate pity.

 

“There have even been reports of it, Lord, very rare and not under scientific conditions, or none that I know of. I dare not say superstitious folk-tales, but that is certainly what Jones and Peter would call them.”

 

“And she believes if she keeps him there, that there is a chance that he will…oh, _dear!”_

 

“Yes, my Lord. I cannot, will not damage her beliefs.”

 

“You do not believe?”

 

“I would _like_ to, my Lord! My – belief system, our holy books says I should believe, that nothing is impossible, and look at the miracles we have seen!

         “But I see Neal lying there…I have seen enough death, Lord…”

 

“I know. It is tragic. For Neal, for us, and for June. I must try and get her to go for a walk outside, something, and get… Neal… out of that room.”

 

“Perhaps if I say that I will stay and get Mozzie to try and get her outside, my Lord?”

 

“She may react very badly to you if you do that, Diana,” Steel warned her.

 

“Well, my Lord, better than the alternatives! He is not going to…well, better than the alternatives.”

 

“Let us try. Get Mozzie to come to me, and you stay with June, Diana.

         “Diana, I am so sorry that all this has come upon you when you should be enjoying every second of your baby’s first days!”

 

“Sometimes life just happens, my Lord. We have the murderers trapped, and that is a great thing.”

 

She patted his arm sympathetically, seeing the pain etched in his face, and went out. Soon Mozzie appeared.

 

“Caerrovon, there has been a change in June.”

 

“How do you mean? Can we take…Neal…?”

 

“She _wants_ you to come and take him to the dungeon.”

 

“The dungeon! The _dungeon,_ Mozzie?”

 

“She says that is what she has been told.”

 

“Oh, she sounds a great deal _worse!”_

 

“Yes. She will not tell me why she wants us to take him there. Perhaps – I should not guess, Caerrovon! – perhaps she sees it as a tomb? A crypt?”

 

“I must come and speak to her, Mozzie.”

 

“Yes, I think it is time.”

 

They got to Neal’s room… _it will always be Neal’s room!_ thought Steel, struck by another wave of such sadness and loss that he could hardly keep upright…and June was standing by the bed, wrapping Neal’s…wrapping Neal in several blankets. She looked up and smiled a little at Steel.

 

“I am sorry you do not understand, my Lord, but will you please take my boy – our boy – to the dungeon where this happened and lay him there?”

 

“Mistress June, will you leave him there with me, if I do this for you?” Steel asked.

“I will, Lord Steel. I have done my part.”

 

Steel felt a huge relief wash over him. She was an older woman, brave, true, wise, of high moral standards: much to be respected. He had dreaded wrenching her away from her delusion in the midst of her deepest grief. This sounded as though they might be able to bring this whole catastrophic episode to a decent close and move on with their lives…poorer, inestimably poorer, but intact.

 

“I think we need as much privacy as possible. I shall ask Leran to come and guard the doorway the killers may use to escape. Joster and Merritt and Leran will suffice. Then we do not need the other young warriors, good-hearted as they are, but not part of our family in the same way.”

 

He hurried off and sent messengers scrambling. He asked everyone but his special people to get clear, far from anywhere he would walk with Neal. Peter heard the commotion and both he and El came up. “We should actually be getting back, Lord Steel. I am not sure how we are helping by staying here.”

 

“Peter, Elizabeth, the problem seems to be resolving itself. June wishes me to take Neal to the dungeon where it all began, and she says she will leave me there with him. I will then get Mozzie to take her home to ‘Newark’...no, ‘New York’? – or perhaps Tammy and Diana and Theo can go with her, have the baby to distract her from this grief, since Mozzie should be here for the…ceremony, and I assume you would wish to be here?”

 

“Oh, of _course!”_

 

After a short while, all the participants were waiting strategically for the end to this horrid and tragic event.

 

Steel said, “Everyone should be in place now, I will go and get him.”

 

Feeling miserable, almost as though he was desecrating Neal’s…Neal…he picked up the cocoon of bedding that June had wrapped around him. He walked slowly to the kitchen area. June followed, peculiarly uplifted. Mozzie followed her, and Peter and Elizabeth joined in. Diana was waiting by the doorway down to the dungeons to take June to Tammy and Theo once she had relinquished her self-imposed duty.

 

The little procession made its way down the long, broad stairs and soon they passed Leran, moving quickly to one side soas not to block his shot. Joster and Merritt were next to him, all of them alert and with arrows nocked, knowing that the evil men might realise there were fewer of them and take a chance to run. But these were three expert archers who could release and re-nock at great speed, and only one man or perhaps two should be able to exit the back room at one time. And Steel had his secret weapon, of course.

 

“Will this do for you, Mistress June?” Steel asked, standing to one side.

 

“No. You must be on the other side of the fire. Next to the wall, as near as possible to the door but not in front of it: you will be safe. But right next to it.”

 

Willing to make the lady happy, Steel walked to the end of the fire and down the narrow path between the wall and the fire, now strewn with scattered charcoal which crunched oddly beneath his feet. He laid Neal down as close to the wall as possible, about a foot’s-length from the door opening and stood up straight.

 

“Is this to your liking, Mistress June? Will you leave us to watch him, now?”

 

This was the point Steel feared: June may ask him to take Neal back to bed, or something even more bizarre! He was watching her, she was gazing serenely at the blankets covering Neal.

 

“June!” Peter asked. “Can we take you up for some tea, dear, Diana wants you to see how Theo has grown!”

 

“In a minute, Peter,” June said, in her polite but determined way. “You are always impatient, Peter! This is an important moment, do you not think so?”

 

Peter looked at Steel and they both shrugged. Mozzie took June’s hand and said, “Thank you for looking after my beloved friend, dearest June.”

 

“No-one else was equipped, Moz! But you see, we’ve done it.”

 

“Yes, you did it, June.”

 

No-one spoke, and the crackling and spitting of the fire sounded very loud in the enclosed space.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

_“Help!”_

If anyone had been watching from afar, it would have seemed a moment of great humour: everyone except June jumped a foot in the air, even the impervious Leran. They spun around and the cocoon of blankets was moving!

 

“Some help here! Mozzie? Someone? Mozzie, where are you? _Anyone?_ ”

 

Steel leaned down and picked up the whole bundle and jumped through the flames, setting his burden down on the lowest step, away from the archers, all of whom were trying to watch what had happened and keep one eye on the doorway. Everyone else started wrenching away the blankets and Neal’s head appeared – hair just _everywhere!_ – and he saw Peter.

 

His hand went out and then he saw June and Mozzie, and his face lit up. He reached out for them, and they grabbed him in a combined hug that Steel joined in, wrapping his longer arms round all three of them!

 

“Lord! How can that – I believe it not! – how - ?”

 

“Joster, I know not and care not! Neal, my son, my son – are you really alive?”

 

“Sort of. I am here. I feel a bit like a …a plant.”

 

“ _What,_ Neal?” Mozzie demanded.

 

“A plant, and – hungrier than I think I have ever been!”

 

“Let’s get him up to the Greatroom!” June said, happily. “We can be more comfortable!”

 

Steel was more confused than ever, but also so filled with relief and joy that he felt he could have floated all four of them up to the Greatroom on his delight alone! He picked up Neal and almost danced up the stairs. He didn’t understand what had happened, and he didn’t care! Perhaps June had infected them with her madness and if that was all this was, he was glad, glad, _glad!_

 

Diana, waiting patiently by the door saw him coming. Neal said, as though nothing untoward had happened, “Hallo, Di! How is Theo?” and then, “I can walk, my Lord!”

And her mouth fell open and looked as though it was going to stay that way.

 

“ _Neal! What!”_ she said, and hurried after Steel. Mozzie was running; Peter, holding tightly to El’s hand, nearly tripped over him. Only June seemed calm and contented, walking unhurriedly behind them.

 

Steel carefully placed Neal down…where his _body_ had lain not long before! He stared at his son’s face and kissed him. “I am so – I can not tell you - What – I understand not. What happened, Neal?”

 

Neal ran his fingers through his hair, returning it to some semblance of order. “Can I have something to eat, Lord! I am _starving!”_

 

Steel hugged him so hard that Neal felt he was in danger of not having any breath left in his body all over again! The alien was extremely strong!

 

June went to the kitchen and Ophera joined her, watching June as though she was some awe-inspiring magician of ancient times, and they put together a meal and tea and wine. No-one had eaten well, and Neal was starving! Neal, who wasn’t supposed to ever be hungry again!

 

Slowly, wonderingly, Tammy and Theo, Brak and Ophera, Shiral, Leran, Joster and Merritt (having called for soldiers to take their places) and all the Earthlings were sitting watching Neal as though he was about to disappear. Only June and Neal himself seemed unaffected.

 

“Was this all a trick?” Steel demanded with sudden suspicion. “Because if it was, my youngest son – if it _was - !”_

“You always think the worst of me – just like him!” Neal said, ungrammatically, around mouthfuls of food, pointing with his knife vaguely in Peter’s direction. “Even die I can not, lest you think it a trick!”

 

“It is not the dying,” Mozzie said, “as much as the coming-back-from-death that seems to be a Caffrey trick!”

 

“Yes – like the shark attack!” Peter said, suddenly grinning. “In which you died, remember? Supposedly?” He patted Neal’s shoulder affectionately. Everyone wanted to see and touch Neal, just as they had the baby! They wanted to affirm _this_ miracle as well!

 

Neal laughed delightedly. “I have died rather often, have I not? Oh, this was odd, though!”

 

“Do you _know_ what happened?” Elizabeth asked. “Because you _died!_ This wasn’t a clerical error, a forgery, a lie, a con, a charade, a plastic shark, ketchup blood or faked anything – you _died!_ There was a whole flight of Chiri here, you were cold, not breathing, no pulse – you were really and truly dead!”

 

“Your beard didn’t even grow!” Diana pointed out. “In fact, less probably than a corpse’s apparently does!”

 

“I know. It was odd. And my beard does not grow that fast, Diana, thank Heavens!

...........“Aware of all that I was not,” Neal said, musingly. “Lots of Chiri – I would have liked to have seen that.”

 

“Well we did _not_ , since it meant that save you they could not!” Mozzie said, waspishly. “What happened!”

 

“I got too close to the flowers…oh, they are so beautiful! They sparkle in the dark!”

 

“Yes, wonderful, wonderful! Help us it does not, as it would be our last dying sight! Go _on_ , Neal!” Mozzie was getting frustrated, now. He himself would have said that he didn’t mind miracles, rather liked them, but he liked to know how they worked!

 

“I got too close and they reached towards me – they are starving, my Lord! It is so sad!” Neal saw Mozzie raise his fist threateningly and carried on hurriedly, “And they drained my life energy, help themselves they could not, but in that instant I understood and so did they. Somehow, we were one. Poor, brave, self-sacrificing things!” His voice dropped and he stared off into space.

 

“We really understand not, Neal,” Lord Steel said.

 

“Well, as soon as they could, they gave my life energy back, that is all. They – but how were Peter and Elizabeth and June in the room with us, Mozzie – and Leran? It was supposed to be a secret!”

 

Mozzie took his hand, turned it over, felt its warmth gladly and said, smiling a little, “It was not a 'Romeo Error' of a few minutes or hours. You were dead for two days, Neal. That is a hard secret to keep.”

 

Neal stared at him, looked round the faces, eyes wide. “No! It felt not like that! It felt as perhaps a candlemark!”

 

“It is true, Neal. You were dead. The Chiri confirmed it. You breathed not, moved not – you were cold and dead, my son! We have been in mourning. Except Lady June.”

 

Neal’s mouth fell open. “My _Lord!_ I am so sorry!”

 

“Yes, well, I had already got dibs on your room, Neal – so – not _all_ bad… ”

 

Neal punched Mozzie’s shoulder and laughed. Then he said, hesitantly, “So why – why did you not – I understand not! Why - ”

 

“You have June to thank. She sat with you like a mother cougar with one cub and prayed from the time the Chiri said they could do nothing,” Diana told him.

 

“June - ?” Neal looked at her.

 

June smiled at him. “I knew you’d be back, Neal, dear.”

 

“And you knew to take him back to where the flowers could give him back his life-energy,” Mozzie said. “That is some powerful magic you have there.”

 

“Not magic at all! I prayed and I waited. I believe in miracles. I knew when Byron went. I knew that Neal wasn’t ready to go.”

 

“Well, June, if it hadn’t been for you, he’d have been buried! Or cremated or whatever the local custom is! You saved his life!” Jones exclaimed.

 

“As did the plants,” she pointed out. “And next time, Clinton, you listen to your heart and not your head!”

 

“Yes, ma’am!”

 

 

 

At that moment Lira appeared. Steel had seen more emotions on Lira’s face in the last few days than he had in more than a decade! Now he saw total shock and surprise for the very first time!

 

“Neal!” she said, and came round the back of the couch and hugged him, her hair wrapping around him and he hugged back, nearly tipping his tray all over the floor. Mozzie grabbed it and everyone was laughing and talking, much of it complete nonsense, at each other! Everyone was trying to tell Lira what they thought Neal had explained, or explaining to each other what _they_ thought had happened – it was complete Bedlam, and eventually most of them just gave up and gave way to silly, helpless laughter.

 

The Keep rang with all the laughter it had been missing for days, and more!

 

Eventually, through exhaustion if nothing else, everyone quieted down to smiling idiotically. Ophera and June handed round trays of food…Shiral soon called Whim and Pila and a few other youngsters, who handed round the food and drinks with eyes round as wagon wheels, so surprised were they to see Neal, the heir whom they had mourned, eating as though there was not enough food in the whole Keep!

 

“How are you feeling, Neal?” Lira asked, at last. “It seems to me you are well…alive and well? I need to sing a little, reharmonise your energies, but …?”

 

“Better now that I have eaten…but there is much I have to tell you, Lira, and you, my Lord! It is imperative that we act to save the plants! Everything else can wait!”

 

“Now, from the beginning and with explanations, tell us what you experienced, Neal,” the Lord said. “For it is not long since we thought to kill the plants for they had killed you and others.”

 

“They sound horrible and creepy, Neal, you agreed!” Mozzie nodded.

 

“They understand not why we think that of them, for other than normal plants and some fungi, all live off other life. And every plant and animal and fungus needs others to survive. All life is interconnected. We kill to eat and they say it is more fearsome for our food. And truly, it was completely painless, dying for them. Pleasant, peaceful.”

 

“But why – who brought them here, why do they not take the lives of the men in there with them?”

 

“They are beautiful, Lord, and conscious in a way rather different to us, but not very – sophisticated? The men captured them from their planet by telling them that they – the men – had a ship with weapons pointed at the planet that would destroy it totally if they (the plants) killed them (the men), and at any future time if they did not obey their commands. It sounds extremely unlikely, depending on what the men wanted.

.........“I suppose if they wanted the whole of this planet, wanted to kill all human life on it, perhaps that is worth that kind of outlay, that kind of cruelty?”

 

“Cruelty, Neal?” Peter asked.

 

“Yes. For the plants can normally go dormant, a state of torpor, if there is little food. Their captors told them if they slept they would have their planet destroyed, but provided them with too little food, so they would be ready to snatch at any passing food source.”

 

“Like Neal Caffrey!” Mozzie grinned. “Which makes you sound like a wilted potato chip!”

 

“Nice that you’re so glad I’m back!” Neal snarked in English, and Mozzie grinned again,

 

         “Yours _is_ the better room!” he pointed out.

 

“So they can choose who – what – from which to take energy?” Lira asked. “And they can manipulate it…? They gave yours back undamaged and perfect?”

 

“That is yet to be seen! Mind you, how could we tell…it is not as though he was all that perfect before!” Mozzie put in, apparently reacting to Neal’s unexpected return to Life with his own brand of dark humour.

 

Neal decided to take the high road and ignore Mozzie. “They seem to be expert at that. They are not evil or creepy.”

 

“But the men who have taken them hostage seem to be! What are their plans?” Steel demanded.

 

“That they know not, my Lord. They are confused, sad, lonely and hungry – quite desperate. They want to go home. They showed me how they saw their home planet, at night.” He paused, the others could see him imagining, and he smiled. “I must try to paint it. It is as though there are a million huge diamonds sparkling, but the light source is invisible. Your eyes are not distracted by the light. You can just see the brilliant, multi-coloured flashes. It is truly exquisite.” He shook himself. “We must somehow find out if there is a spaceship targeting their planet. I believe it not, but I dare not tell them a thought for fact and risk these evil humans destroying something so sublime.”

 

“How do we find this out?” Steel asked, perplexed. “We know not where this planet circles, around which star! Give you co-ordinates they can not Neal?”

 

“No, and translate them there we can not, in case the planet _is_ watched.”

 

“Are they telepathic?” Lira asked. “Can I speak to them?”

 

She started to sing a low song next to Neal.

 

“You can try, Lira,” Neal told her, “but I think not that they are telepathic as the Tassin are telepathic. But – I can feel them. We have shared life-energy. They wait on me, I feel the weight of their expectations. They cannot talk to their kin. You had to take me…my body (how odd that sounds!) to the basement? I think they are very powerful, extremely clever at manipulating energy, but they have a limited range.”

 

Peter leaned forward. “The doctors-without-brains Brak spoke about, Neal – the humans who go and share energy with them and leave before they are drained. Do these plants know of their existence?”

 

“I would need to go closer, Peter. I can ask. Then - ”

 

“Then perhaps,” Diana put in, “we can somehow contact the doctors and they would know, surely, if there are spaceships orbiting the planet. How do people communicate through space, Lord Steel?”

 

“Call the Doctor,” Mozzie said, in English, with glee. “He can go in his Tardis and save the plants’ planet. The Doctor will ‘Save The Planet of the Life-Energy-Eating Plants from the Evil Daleks who wish to **_Exterminate_** us!’”

 

“Shut up, Mozzie!” Neal told him, amused. “You’ll further confuse the locals!”

 

“There are machines,” Steel answered Diana. “They are restricted in many ways: the ship cannot be moving fast, for example. Many people use telepaths, if they have access to them, for they can do more and have a wider range.

“But we have no idea at all of who these doctors are! We cannot just send a message into space at random!” Steel said. “We could go and inquire of every trading vessel, many go and trade our wood, or fabrics or furs for metals that are in short supply… perhaps they have seen the flowers’ planet, or these charitable doctors.”

 

Peter made a face. “Lord Steel, they are not doctors, or need not be! It is just that there was a charitable organisation on Earth called Doctors Without Borders where doctors gave their time to go and help sick people in poor countries. When I heard of people going and feeding, as I thought of them, vampire plants, I thought of them not so much as charitable, but brainless!”

 

“But, my Lord!” Neal objected. “If we have to go to all the traders, it will take a great deal of time! I want to get the plants home! They are starving in there.”

 

“Wait, Neal!” Lira said, her voice-song cutting through the conversations. “You have seen their planet.”

 

“Yes. Well – as they see it. They do not have a great range of vision, if vision it truly is, Lira.”

 

“But you see the love they have for it.”

 

“Oh, _yes!”_

“If you show me, then, son, I could visit the planet.”

 

“Lira!” Mozzie stopped her, suddenly serious. “We know not if their planet supports life! You could die if it has not breathable air.”

 

“That is true,” Jones nodded. “These are not Earth plants.”

 

“But – but they feed off other life forms – including the doctors,” Elizabeth added. “Those life forms have some way of existing. They don’t need oxygen and light and warmth if they can feed off energy, as I understand it – but their food does.”

 

“They were on other planets, before, I believe,” Brak said. “But now the doctors visit them, and perhaps wear that armour humans need in space?”

 

Lira turned to Neal. “Can you ask them to show you the doctors visiting, Neal? Do they see beings like that, or just as forms of energy?”

 

“I can not say. I can ask. We have shared energy.”

 

“And they have shared energy with the doctors!” Mozzie and Diana exclaimed together. Mozzie went on, “Therefore, they can give you the doctors’ energies. Could you then reach those people, Lira?”

 

“I think it is possible. If they can show me these good people in a way I can understand. These plants manipulate energy in ways that are different, yet we Chiri also manipulate energies. It is how we heal. It is how we translate. But with us a great deal is by clear intention, not careful intricate manipulation.”

 

“We must try!” Neal said, starting to get up.

 

“Wait, Neal!” Steel said, and his voice cracked with authority and Neal paused. “How do I know you are well?”

 

“He is completely well!” laughed Lira. “I have sung a little, which is all he needed. Do you know, he is more healthy than before he was dead? I do not heal every little thing, Caerrovon, not every time I see someone. I can tell you, from hugging your son that he has only good (here she said something that Neal did not understand) and not even one parasite.”

 

Mozzie saw the puzzlement on the faces of almost everyone and said, “Neal has no bad microbes, no bad bacteria, viruses, in a word, no pathogens. Only beneficial bacteria, mites and so on.”

 

There was a total silence and then Diana said, quietly, “That answers the question I had: why did Neal’s body not decay over that period. I appreciate that you were contacting higher forces, June. This gives a scientific method for why that worked.”

 

June chuckled serenely. “Science always comes along at last and finds a wordy explanation for something we already know works. I have no problem believing that the plants played a part, that they were a method for my Good Creator to use!"

 

“To stop decay, I believe the plants would have to remove all enzymes and bacteria and all life, perhaps even all the food in your body, or put it into some sort of stasis,” Diana said, wonderingly. “Eventually other bacteria would have invaded the body, but decomp. usually starts from within.”

 

“Which is why he is so hungry!” Peter agreed.

 

“But babies who are still-born or die very early often do not decay, but mummify if left to do so, even if not in perfect conditions, as long as they have not ingested anything,” Jones remembered from his reading.

 

“And the bodies of some saints are known to remain ‘incorruptible’, the Roman Catholic church calls it,” June reminded them all.

 

There was a prolonged pause while people thought and some tried not to laugh. Then Mozzie said, shaking his head, “I really don’t think the last can apply in this case, June!”

 

At that, all the Earthlings burst out laughing. Neal grinned broadly at Mozzie, “I have to agree!”

 

“Saints, to the Roman Catholic church, or group of believers,” Diana explained for the locals, “are people who are very, very good and holy.”

 

Some of the locals chuckled, and Steel said, “I think not that my son is boring enough to be a saint! Either of them!”

 

“So, my dear father, have I your permission to go and exchange ideas with these plants?” Neal grinned affectionately at Steel.

 

“That recently took your life energy and caused us all such grief, my son?” Steel groaned.

 

“Well…” started Mozzie, and Steel calmly reached back for a cushion and put it over that man’s face and went on, “They did, Neal! Do you trust them, son?”

 

“I do, Lord. They need my energy to survive, yet they kept it, controlled it, and gave it back to me. That is self-sacrifice of the highest order. That is why I must help them.”

 

Steel shrugged and dropped the cushion. “Let us go. Not all of us, the archers must have a clear shot – Lira and Neal and I will go.”

 

“And _I_   think that we have a party – a baby-come-into-the-Keep and an-heir-returned-alive-to-the-Keep party to plan!” Elizabeth bubbled.

 

“I will only be available after we get the plants home!” Neal told her. Then he smiled his blinding smile and said, “But there’s nothing to stop you planning a fantastic meal first, Elizabeth! I’m still a little hungry.”

 

“And if you keep shoving down the food, mon frère, you will not be climbing into or out of any windows for any good, or nefarious, reason! No downspouts or awnings will hold you even if you could squeeze in and out!”

 

“I was _dead_ , Mozzie! I need to build myself up!”

 

"Always some excuse, however bizarre, for doing what he wants to do!" his brother pointed out sarcastically.

 

“Come, Neal!” Steel ordered and the three went out quickly.

 

“Steel has actually got some control over our boy!” Peter laughed.

 

“Sometimes, a little,” Mozzie agreed, nodding sagely. “And as I said - when Neal is wanting to go just where Steel is ordering him to go!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 End of Chapter 21

 

Happy now? Hard to please this bunch!!! Everyone always wants something other than what I write!!! :D

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Doctor, Tardis, Darleks etc from BBC programme Dr Who. The Romeo Error book by Lyall Watson (Supernature is lovely if you like weird 'miracles')


	22. Annihilating the Murderers at Steel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyone tries to get things back to normal at their Keep.

 

 

 

Elizabeth found Peter very quiet. She was wanting to plan parties and find presents!

 

“What is it, Hon,” she asked, at last, when he seemed disinclined to join her in celebration.

 

“It’s Neal,” Peter said, and El rolled her eyes.

 

“One day, Peter Burke, you’re going to say that and I’ll explode like an over-filled balloon and you won’t have any idea why!

         “I could sort of see when you were chasing him, or when he was working for you and driving you mad by colouring outside the lines. I did not see how he was bothering you when he was poor Steel’s problem, and even less now!

         “Look, Hon, you and he had your issues, and part of that was my fault, and then I thought we’d kissed and made up – but he made it very clear he wanted none of that, remember? And we’ve got to a place of being okay with each other – Mozzie said it was your idea that made them find those evil men and their flowers – and that sounds ridiculous! - So why are you fussing about Neal Caffrey again, please tell me!”

 

“He told us to go hang. And I wish he hadn’t.”

 

“Yeah, me, too. But that’s a while back, Peter.”

 

“I’ve got you, El, and you’re special. No other woman would put up with me!”

 

“Now we’re getting somewhere!” she chuckled.

 

“And Diana is also fantastic, Jones is just great in certain areas.”

 

“But.”

 

“But I still miss him. Look at what he did? He just walked in there, knowing that he was putting himself in danger.”

 

“Sounds silly and unprofessional and irresponsible.”

 

“Yeah,” Peter smiled reluctantly. “If he was on the anklet I’d have reamed him out for doing something like that – and he did, with not quite such terminal…or what _should_ have been terminal results!”

 

“If he hadn’t died, Steel would probably have punished him for being so foolish. It was foolish, Peter. If he’d been my son - ! He could have thrown in a rat on a string…well, whatever pesky rodent things they have here.”

 

“He wanted to have a look, and there are no cameras or anything. He was just unlucky the flowers were so close.”

 

“Well, Agent Burke, it sounds as though you’re back to making excuses for Neal! You used to get furious, sometimes, and I’d agree with you and you’d switch sides and start making excuses for him!”

 

“I miss him. His courage and putting other people first – you heard what Mozzie said: Neal thought about what would happen if Diana or Tammy or little Theo was killed, because till he pulled that crazy stunt, we didn’t have the faintest idea how these murders were being carried out! It could have been a fly biting someone… anything. Just because the Chiri didn’t recognise it doesn’t mean anything! They didn’t have the correct skills to feel the flowers, or their energy or whatever.

         “That made him a great team member. He had our backs.”

 

“I thought he was a criminal and did criminal things?”

 

“Yeah. Damn it, he was fun to have around, that’s the trouble! Partly because he didn’t play by any rules I could recognise! But he got results, and often got them when we wouldn’t have been able to, because of our rules or because we don’t have that quirky way of thinking that those two do!”

 

“You know, we don’t come here – to this planet – very often. If it wasn’t for Diana, we wouldn’t. I don’t like coming here, because we see Neal and Mozzie and they were our good friends and now it’s so horrid I’d rather never see them. Walking on egg-shells! Can’t you just drop the whole subject of Neal Caffrey, forever?”

 

“I probably have to. But I need to get some things sorted out, because obviously the whole mess still bothers me. Because back when he told us to take a flying leap, he was telling the truth as he saw it – you know he was. I hadn’t seen things from his point of view. When I looked at them from his angle, he was justified in being pissed off at us. Me, especially. I want to put that right. Not for him, necessarily. He very obviously has moved on from being my CI, our friend, he has a different family now – but for me. I have to put things right for me.”

 

“How do you mean?” El was distressed. _A different family now. Yeah – Neal **was** like family._

 

“I don’t know. But I need to find out why I did some things, I guess.” He wouldn’t tell El how, when Neal had first appeared, alive, and he’d reached out towards him, his heart had leapt, and when Neal had turned to June and Mozzie and Steel…how hurt he’d been.

 

“Whatever, Hon. I’ll support you.”

 

“I know you will. Thanks, Hon.”

 

“Now shut up about That Man and tell me what food you want!”

 

 

 

Steel, Lira and Neal had pushed the fire a little further away from the main wall that divided the nearer portion of the lowest dungeon from the further portion. They put down some sacking and sat down with their backs to the wall, Neal closest to the door and Lira next to him. Neal watched her hair, fascinated…it kept reaching out as though trying to nip off the tops of the flames, playing with the fire. She didn’t seem concerned. Perhaps her hair wasn’t flammable.

 

“Are you aware of the flowers, Neal?” Steel asked.

 

Neal leaned his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. “Mmmhmm,” he affirmed. He felt as though he was floating amongst them, he felt as he had felt when they took his life energy. Except that they were anxious, wanting answers. He had to concentrate. He tried speaking to them in thoughts.

_Flowers, do you remember the humans, beings like me, who came and shared energy with you on your home world?_

 

The first two times he thought this at them, there was nothing. Then he tried adding visuals, pictures of what it might have looked like.

There was a shift, like wind blowing across the green fields of Camber. Then he was quite conscious of something moving over them, like the wind itself. He felt an affirmative.

 

_Firstly, I wish to thank you for saving my life energy and giving it back so that I could return to my family. I know you needed that energy, and it was very kind and brave of you to give it back to me rather than keeping it. We will try and help you! My friend Lira is here, she is a human who works with energies more as you do, and she may be able to help get you home if you can communicate with her. We want to help you get home, be free, to be with your family._

At the end of this was a feeling like a question mark.

 

Encouraged, Neal made a picture of Lira very strongly and thought _You can trust her. Can you reach out to her so she will feel you?_

 

Then he brought himself back…it seemed a long way…and said, “Lira, can you feel that? Like a breeze of consciousness? Like a - ”

 

“Oh!” Lira said, in surprise. “Are they not lovely, Neal!” She started to sing.

 

Neal let himself drift back to being with the plants, and could hear Lira’s song as though through his body, not just in his ears. He could see, in his mind, the flowers, and this consciousness over them – now it was two consciousnesses! Lira was one, and they were much bigger than he was. He just tried to be positive and affirming of Lira’s trustworthiness. Hopefully she could understand them more fully than he, could really ‘talk’ to them.

 

Finally the song ceased. With even more difficulty, Neal brought himself back to the dungeon, away from the plant-souls. It was so easy to float there amongst them, even though they were concerned, angry at being used by humans much like him.

 

“Let us go and tell the others,” Lira said. “And I should alert the Chiri…Listil in particular.”

 

Neal and Steel scrambled off the floor, it was awkward so close to the fire. Somehow, Lira stood easily before they could offer her a hand, and they went upstairs to Steel’s study. Brak, Diana and Mozzie joined them.

 

“Did you manage to communicate with the plants?” Steel asked Lira as soon as the door was shut.

 

Lira smiled. “Not precisely, Caerrovon! I was aware of them, but there is another being there.”

 

“The men?” Brak demanded, alarmed.

 

“No, Brak, the plants are individually conscious on a certain level, but they have a being over them, rather as a shepherd over his or her flock. That being is far more conscious. They do not think and plan as we do, but we are enough alike that I believe we can work together.”

 

“The devas!” Mozzie said, eagerly, using an English word.

 

“The nature spirits?” Neal asked.

 

“Well, more specifically, I believe that is what Dorothy Maclean called the over-spirit of every plant species, for example. Perhaps animals, too, but she was working with plants.”

 

“Findhorn,” Neal nodded. “I remember. They grew huge vegetables where no real gardening should be even possible. Maclean especially would contact the devas of the plants to find out what they needed, yes?”

 

“That sounds similar to what I was experiencing,” Lira nodded. “They are very concerned for their – I will call them their flock. They are aware of other shepherds on their home planet, but the contact is extremely tenuous.

         “When I asked about the doctors, the people who had come to feed them, they showed me what they saw, energy-rich beings of compassion. I hope I have a clear idea of those energies, so that I can track them.”

 

“What is our next step, Lira?” Neal asked. “You felt how depleted these plants are, did you not?”

 

“Yes, they have little energy left. If they did not have a nature that is partially mineral and partially light, they would have died long ago.

         “I will go and communicate with the other Chiri, for some are of a more adventurous nature and regularly travel across the void. I prefer to stay with people I know, but my sister especially may help. I will return as soon as I may.”

 

“And we want to invite them here for a little celebration: the birth of Theo and the re-birth, or whatever we wish to call it, of my son, to thank them for their concern and their attempts to help,” Steel told her.

 

“Caerrovon, they were amazed when I told them he was alive!” Lira said. “They are rejoicing already.”

 

Brak and Mozzie looked at each other and shook their heads. They weren’t quite as used to people sending thoughts as easily as spoken words and across great distances!

 

“Thank you, Lira, for helping the plants,” Neal said, and she disappeared. “And now, my Lord, by your leave, I must go and speak to June!”

 

“I think it will take more than your wanting to waken her, Neal,” Diana said, with a grin. “She sat and prayed for you all the time you were dead, and she hadn’t slept for a whole twelve or more hours before you died, so I think you’d best leave her for at least another day to catch up on her sleep.”

 

“Would it be all right to not speak of me as dying and being dead?” Neal asked.

 

“If you dislike it, do not get yourself killed, son,” Steel admonished.

 

“I truly am sorry. I thought the plants would be at the furthest possible end of the dungeon, my Lord! And we needed someone to see, to confirm they were there.

         “I wonder how long it will take Lira and Listil and the others to find the doctors and confirm the safety of the planet. I want to go to each of the other Keeps and make sure of everyone’s safety.”

 

“Wait and go with Lira, Neal,” Steel told him. “We have had enough loss for many a fifty-day.”

 

“If there is nothing else…I think it is probably time for the evening meal, is it not?” Neal asked, hopefully.

 

“If we go and help, Neal, it will be ready sooner!”

 

“If there is anything left in the pantry after you ate so much as a snack!” Mozzie teased.

 

Neal did make a quick detour with Diana to go and see Theo and Tammy. To his surprise, Tammy was standing watching two of the young warriors work with their throwing knives. She had Theo on her back and a large, soft piece of knitted fabric wrapped around her and tied above her breasts. Tiny Theo was sleeping peacefully against her back.

 

“I have seen many slings to carry babies in the front,” Neal smiled at her, as she recognised their presence and Diana stroked Theo’s cheek.

 

“But then the baby would interfere with the use of the hands,” Tammy said.

         “No, Yorn, you need to be using your wrist more! Try it in slow motion first, come on! Show me!”

 

“We will leave you to your work, Tam,” Di said to her, and she and Neal went towards the kitchen.

 

“So what is it like being a mother?” Neal asked.

 

Diana laughed. “Mostly, it’s been like being at a funeral, Neal Caffrey!”

 

“I truly am sorry! It wasn’t planned!”

 

“I should take you to the armory to practise unarmed combat!” Diana threatened.

 

Neal laughed. “I would not be much of an opponent even if I wasn’t just dead!”

 

“You cannot use that as excuse – you look fine! I have more of an excuse, being only lately delivered of a baby!”

 

“Another unEarthly happening!” Neal chuckled.

 

“I thought that once we’d gotten over the strange lights in glass bubbles and the lack of electricity and the chickens with scales and the whole slavery thing, it would all be quite commonplace! But no, energy-sucking plants that we are trying to help, one of my best friends dying – and then not so much! – and having my baby appear on my tummy with no effort whatsoever…!”

 

“Best friends?” Neal said, his eyes wide, unerringly picking out the one piece of information that struck him and Diana thought again that he must have had very few people to trust in his childhood.

She would normally have teased him, but instead she turned and gave him a hug.

 

“Yeah, silly! You know that!”

 

“I knew we were friends…!”

 

“You are definitely one of my best friends! And like my little brother!”

 

“Why ‘little’?”

 

Diana stopped, and Neal had to turn to watch her think. “I know you are very capable. But in my world – the world of law and order and rigid rules, as we were at White Collar – you needed help sometimes, rescuing sometimes. I think that’s why.

         “And because big sisters take care of bullies who pick on their little brothers, and in that area, Neal, I am definitely more capable!”

 

“If you’re talking about rescuing me from Kramer, _that_ bully – then I admit freely and completely that you saved my bacon that day. And others – that’s the one I always remember, because you sometimes skirted the law, but that time you crashed right through it!

         “I never had a sibling, and now I have two – you and Mozzie!”

 

“And Tammy. She loves you. She let me stay with June, because June and I know each other better, but she was torn apart by your death.”

 

Neal made a face of regret.

 

“You did what you had to do. I get it,” Diana told him. “If we’d had all the surveillance stuff, I’d have been furious with you, but you did the only thing you could in a bad situation. Moz told me you were even more concerned about us – me and my family – than most of the people in the Keep.”

 

“Yeah, of course. I don’t know anyone who has been killed, personally, but I see how dependent Theo is on you, on Tammy. The loss of any one of the three of you would be a tragedy. And truly, I didn’t think I was putting my life ay risk. I feel a bit silly about the whole thing.”

 

“Goof!” she said, affectionately. “Let’s go and help with dinner.”

 

 

Although they had the meal in the kitchen, as usual, all the family was there, except for Joster and Merritt, and the dishes created were delicious! Steel had Mozzie go and pick some good wine, and June had appeared to help!

 

“What are you doing here?” Jones asked. “You must be exhausted!”

 

“Winning is never exhausting, Clinton,” June had smiled. “Losing – that’s a different thing. I will catch up on my sleep, but I wanted to come and be with you all for this meal!”

 

Steel came over to Neal, once he had finished hugging June tightly, and said in a soft voice, “Joster and Merritt felt dreadful when you were dead, Neal. They felt as though they should have stopped you or saved you somehow.”

 

“Think that they can not! Lord, that was fully my responsibility.”

 

“I know. They possibly know it, intellectually. But emotions are difficult things to change.”

 

Neal hurried over to Elizabeth and Ophera and requested three trays be made up for the guards in the dungeon. Then he and Mozzie and Steel (without Neal even asking him!) took them down to the soldiers. Tammy called for temporary replacements so that the three could eat while it was warm, and soon Joster, Merritt and another young archer called Welt were sitting with the Lord and both heirs while they ate.

 

“We just wanted to make sure you knew, all of the archers that you chose, Joster, that you did an excellent job!” Neal told them. “It worked perfectly! I perhaps over-did my part, but it all worked out, and even had I died, we would have had the men trapped.

 

“We wished we could have- !” Merritt started, and Steel cut him off, and spoke quietly:

        

“I chose Joster and Joster chose you, Merritt, to guard my youngest son when he went travelling. While I acknowledge that what happened in here was not perhaps as we would have chosen it, it has turned out for the best. Not only will we catch the men who planned and carried out many murders, we will save their other victims, the plants. If my son had not acted so rashly,” he gave Neal a sideways glare and Neal did his best to look penitent, “we might never have solved this puzzle without much more loss.

         “And there was nothing you could have done that would have made things any better. You played your part perfectly.”

 

The two cheered up, trying to eat and still show that they acknowledged the three noblemen in the room! Neal saw this and laughed, patted their shoulders and said, “We will let you eat in peace. When you have finished, take over and send your replacements for their food!

.............“Thank you all, so much!”

 

 

After the delicious meal, with much laughter and happiness at all being together, June excused herself.

“June, dear, I want to spend some time with you when you have caught up on your sleep!” Neal warned.

 

“Yes, Neal, I know. As soon as I can.”

 

“And I should go and check on the supplies Leran ordered,” Steel muttered. “Come, my sons, you can do some of the less exciting work of the Keep and help me take inventory!”

 

 

They were soon at the armoury, and prying open crates of swords, daggers and other weapons, and carefully (very carefully, they came pre-sharpened to a killing edge from Sunder) taking them out and counting them.

 

“You seem to be more comfortable with your role as my heir, Neal,” Steel commented, sighting down a lovely blade.

 

“I do not know that I will ever be completely comfortable with it, my Lord, but they are nice boys, Joster and Merritt.”

 

“Not being born to it, it must take a time to become accustomed to giving orders and delegating. You both did well, planning this venture. How did you happen to know about the archers?”

 

Neal glanced up from his list and grinned. “Lucky guess, my Lord?”

 

“So no-one here told you about it?”

 

“No – though perhaps if I had asked them directly, as your heir, they might have told me. We needed a weapon that could strike from afar, Lord, because the plants do not have to touch their prey to kill.”

 

Steel smiled at him, pleased with his sons’ integrity and prudence. It was important to be able to keep secrets in his position. In that regard, there were probably not two better men to have chosen on the planet!

 

“Have you seen how clever Tammy is with Theo?” Mozzie asked Neal. “You would think she had a dozen children!”

 

“I knew not that they bound their babies on their backs!” Neal said, grunting as the lid to a crate of daggers suddenly came loose.

 

“They do something similar in most parts of Africa. The men are traditionally the hunters, the women are charged with most of the farming and such activities, so they need their hands free.

         “Have you seen her when he would need changing, on Earth?”

 

Neal shook his head. “I missed some of that, being dead and all.”

 

“Spent as much time as I would like with them I have not! But I went to their rooms when you and Lira went to talk to the 'drakulavender' and she was getting ready to go and help some warriors with their training. She had just wrapped Theo, and said, ‘Oh!’ and unwrapped him and held him over a kind of bowl, I think it is the local version of a 'potty', and he pee-ed into it! Then she cleaned him up and put him back, tied her wrap around her, washed out the bowl and started off.

         “I have heard that some mothers on Earth have learned this trick, I knew not about it here…but carrying him on her back, it is a good thing she is a telepath!”

 

“No, for when I was in Kenya, I saw mothers doing the same thing in the fields. They would move away, take the baby off their backs and let him or her do what they needed to, and then replace them and continue. I asked one of the nurses how on Earth they knew when to take them off, and she looked at me as though I was – well, from another planet! – and said that any woman that could not tell when her baby needed to relieve itself and got wetted would be thought a terrible mother!

         “Why do more women not learn? It was bad enough when there were disposable diapers – and I know you are about to argue that they filled landfills and how long they took to degrade – but now, having to wash and dry dirty cloth napkins seems even worse!”

 

“I shall have to put articles in newspapers, back on Earth. I am sure women just do not know how smart babies are, how early they can learn.”

 

Neal grinned to himself. Since he was now able to write letters and articles for newspapers without providing ID, Mozzie had become quite the activist, on Earth. The Wars had changed so much – about Earth, about Brethsham, about Mozzie and about him!

 

Peter and El appeared.

 

“Lord Steel…we should be getting back!” Peter said. “Jones wants to go, too – Diana has maternity leave, but with all of us being here it leaves a huge hole in my team!”

 

“Of course, Peter. It has been a more exciting time than we anticipated!” Steel stood up straight. Neal was often a little surprised to be reminded that Steel was noticeably bigger than Peter, whom always had seemed tall and broad to Neal when they worked together.

 

“Tammy is taking you?” Mozzie asked.

 

“Yeah,” Peter nodded.

 

“We are just so pleased that everything turned out all right!” Elizabeth said, smiling at them one by one. She went round and she and Mozzie hugged and kissed each other, then she approached Neal. To an observer, the embrace looked affectionate, but both Peter and Elizabeth knew that it wasn’t the same as it had been, long ago. Neal still protected his heart.

_He has finally learned how to do so!_ Peter thought, sadly _And it was I who taught him the necessity._

Neal made a little wave-like gesture at Peter, and went back to work. He and El smiled at them and left. But Peter had come to a decision and that felt a lot like progress.

 

 

 

The Earthlings had just finished the first meal the next morning when Lira appeared with another Chiri. She was possibly one that had visited when Neal was…dead…Steel thought, but he hadn’t been paying much attention. But as the three approached, she went to Neal and smiled at him and at Lira. She sang a few notes and Lira said, gently, “He is well. Lira looked around and said, “This is my sister, Listil, and she speaks little. But enough! She and I went and found the people who visit the planet of the flowers. They have just returned from a visit and when coming in from space, they saw no other ship. They would have noticed as it would be a very unusual occurrence.

         “There is no ship with weapons trained on the planet. The flowers have been deceived.”

 

Neal breathed a deep sigh of relief.

 

“What do you suggest, Lira?” Steel asked. “For assuredly if we tell the flowers this, they will kill the men in there with them.”

 

Brak, at his shoulder said, “The flowers have already let us know that these are the men that have held them captive and have been responsible for human deaths. The simplest, and perhaps from what Neal said, the kindest thing to do to them is to let the flowers have their energy. Otherwise there will be a Judgement Gathering and their guilt is assured…and the penalty will be dreadful, my Lord.”

 

“ _And_ , in that case, we need to find food for the flowers. ‘Kill two birds with one stone’ we would say, and it is apt,” Mozzie agreed.

 

“I dislike the thought of this, but Neal says it is a pleasant death and as you say, Brak, their alternatives would be ...exceedingly unpleasant.”

 Neal shivered at the way his Lord said that. He didn’t know how capital punishment was carried out here, but Earthlings through the ages had found some hideous ways of ending someone’s life.

_Such a terrible way to be creative!_

“The disadvantage of this course is that we will not understand their motives, Caerrovon,” Mozzie said.

 

“They will never talk! These men have been holed up there with their captives, knowing we wait for them. They are not the sort to give up their secrets easily. I may get answers from them,” said Leran, “but under torture men lie as easily as tell the truth.”

 

Neal glanced over. He knew Leran was a warrior, knew he’d killed probably hundreds of enemies. He did not want to see an even darker side. This planet seemed so much like home to him, it was easy to forget the violence and ruthlessness always lurking beneath the civilised surface.

 

“You think it not worth the trouble?” Steel asked his arms-master, in a businesslike tone and Neal shivered again. Truly, their Lord had been indulgent with them!

 

When Leran shook his head, Steel lead a small group: Leran, Lira and Listil, Neal and Mozzie, Joster and Merritt (because they had been there from the beginning) down to the dungeon where three other archers stood what was hopefully the final guard of this doorway.

 

Steel, still standing out of the line of sight of the guards, called loudly, “Come out of there, humans! This is your last chance! You will be killed if you do not come out unarmed and give yourselves up right now.”

 

He waited, and everything was still and quiet.

 

“Speak to the plants, Lira. This ends now.”

 

“I do not like to do this, but by your laws they would be horribly killed for what they have done,” Lira said, sadly. She started to sing and after a while her song broke off mid-note. “It is done, Caerrovon,” she said.

 

“We can get the plants now?” Neal asked, eagerly.

 

“We can, but they are now less hungry,” Lira said, laconically.

 

Neal did not hesitate. He went in, closely followed by Lira. There was enough light for them to see many scores of these odd plant-like structures, moving gently, searching, it would seem. They were anchored in large ceramic pots. Neal managed to take two and carried them out. All the humans except Listil took a step backwards.

 

The flowers …all Steel could think was that they were nuzzling up to Neal. It bothered him. These things had killed his son, left them grieving…but Neal, if anything, was nuzzling back, leaning towards first one and then the other.

         “Come on, Moz…if you get one, we can take them back quite quickly. You will have to take us, Lira!”

 

Mozzie looked at his friend for a moment, then passed him and took up a plant. Steel shook his head, admiring. That was an amazing trust his sons shared! Joster and Merritt, at that, went and each managed two of the pots. Then they stood by Lira and the whole company disappeared.

 

Steel and Brak look at each other. “Our lives were simpler, I think, before we bought the Earthlings, Master Caerrovon!” Brak said.

 

“Much more simple, much less interesting. You did warn me, if I remember! Come, Brak, we have other business. It will take them some time to remove the plants.

         “Will you,” he said to the guards, “Douse the fires and clean up the mess here - get two or more others to help you. Then take the bodies and place them in the stable yard and ask everyone if they recognise these men. Let me know when it is done.”

 

They walked up and Steel motioned Brak into his study and indicated that he should sit.

 

“Brak, when we both thought my son dead and lost forever, you called me Caerrovon, you called me ‘son’.”

 

“I did, Master and I am sorry if - ”

 

“But now you have withdrawn from me, withdrawn to being merely my servant, my man. And while I value your presence and would not like to lose this aspect of our relationship, Brak – you are very good at what you do! - can we not be father and son, even as Neal and Mozzie are becoming more and more my sons in truth, though they are a different species?”

 

Brak smiled. “I was your father, was I not, in your youth?”

 

“More than my blood father, Brak. He was not warm or loving, and often he forced the role onto you, to you and Ophera, leaving my training, my care, my comfort, my discipline, the overseeing of my schooling to you. It was not to him I ran if I scuffed my knee or fell off my horse!”

 

“Are you sure it is not bad for discipline if I act as your father, my Ophera as your mother?”

 

“For whom? I have never disciplined you, Brak, though you are outspoken in the extreme at times, while the reverse cannot be said to be true!

........“And it is true, I wear the knot, I am, by birthright forced to be Lord of this Keep and responsible for everyone here – but if my blood mother were alive, she would cease not to be my mother, though I was Lord of all the Keep!”

 

“You were headstrong and emotional, Mas – sorry! Caerrovon! And your father either did nothing, not seeing what was happening, or was extremely severe with you. Far more than necessary for your youth and the fault. It was better if we dealt with you, M- Caerrovon!”

 

“Oh, I agree! I am – have always been – most grateful to you both.  

       “I told Neal, when he asked, that I collect people I like in my Keep, but people I love in my family…and I do not know how to make it any plainer that I love both you and Ophera. I was in awe of my father, I had some fondness for him, I was sorry for him. I never loved him as I love you.

“I know you have become more distant, but could we turn the water backwards and you think of me again as the son you never had? For in truth, and although I wear the knot, I have never thought of you in any other way, even though I have tried, because you seemed to wish it.”

 

“Yes, Caerrovon, yes! We would both like that a great deal!”

 

“Good! Then get up and hug me, Brak!”

 

Brak did so, and smiled wryly. “I am glad you ignored my advice…as you so often did!...and bought the three Earthlings.”

 

 

 

 

End of Chapter 22

 

Thank goodness that is over......


	23. Foundry, Oven, Bells, the Base of a Mighty Tree.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A whirlwind tour of the Alliance Keeps and a gentle evening together.

 

 

 

 

 

Neal came dancing along to Steel's study when they had ferried all the flowers to their home planet. Peter would definitely have called him Peter Pan!

 

"My Lord! It is done! They are all home! The deepest dungeons are once again the home of ghosts and a little dust!"

 

"And sometimes my sons, when they are building bombs or finding passageways!" Steel laughed at Neal's delight. It seemed so easy to make him happy. "What now, Neal?"

 

"Oh, we are going to Betchem! I know where the plants are, there! I wondered if you would want to come with us and see Ethlan?"

 

"Not today, Neal. I have work to do here."

 

"Sorry, my Lord, we are always leaving you with the horrid work of the Keep!"

 

"I have a number of well‑trained slaves, Neal! And you are doing very important work!"

 

"Yes, we are! Like Sonsharelitha, we are using our expertise to cement good relations with our sister Keeps!"

 

"Sonsharelitha…?"

 

"Yes. She would only paint portraits for the nobility of Keeps who were friendly to Laffaysham!"

 

"Oh! That I knew not!"

 

"She preferred to paint landscapes and nature. But portraits paid better and she only did them for friendly Keeps, but I am not sure whether that was her choice or her Lord's."

 

"I see my son the artist has an important future here at Steel!"

 

"Be not silly, my Lord!"

 

"I was not, Neal."

 

Neal became bashful and said, "I had better go back. Betchem will be displeased if they lose that baby tree…it is only about eight man‑heights around the base!"

 

Steel was about to ask what this had to do with a tree, but Neal had jumped.

 

When Lira translated the two Earthlings and two Steel Keep warriors to the entranceway of Betchem, Mozzie gasped in amazement.

 

"Is it not truly gorgeous, Moz?" Neal asked, excitedly. "Wait till you see the Greatroom, the baths ‑ it is wondrous!"

 

Lira called the sensitives of the Keep and they sent Ethlan, who was amazed to see the little group.

 

"Neal!" he said, finding his new friend in the gathering.

 

"Ethlan, we are here without warning and without invitation, but on urgent and life‑affirming business!" Neal told him, giving him a hug.

..........."You know Lira? And of course, Joster and Merritt…but you have not yet met my brother. This is Mozzie. Mozzie, Ethlan of Betchem, our Lord's very good friend of many decades."

 

Mozzie was a little surprised to be hugged by Ethlan, who had to practically bend double to do so!

 

"Another kinsman from Steel!" Ethlan exclaimed. "Welcome, Mozzie, welcome, all of you!"

 

"Thank you, Ethlan of Betchem!" Mozzie said, surprised and delighted to be thus greeted. He was so used, in his life, to either being invisible, or treated with dislike or suspicion ‑ or at times even ridicule! He was vastly encouraged to find there were more perceptive beings in the universe!

 

"And of course, Lira, you come and help us so often! Thank you for your presence!" Ethlan bowed, then nodded to the two, "Joster, Merritt! Now, what can we do for you? Are you in need of food or drink or rest?"

 

"Actually, Ethlan, friend of my father, it is what we can do for you!" Neal chuckled. "You wanted Lira to come and heal your tree…we are going to do better than that! But you must help us…and perhaps we should speak to your father, first, if he is available, since we are going to remove something beautiful from his Keep, something beautiful but deadly."

 

Ethlan, intrigued, tried to pry more information out of Neal, but neither he nor Mozzie would say anything more. Lira watched, amused, as they played verbal games with Ethlan, who took them to see Lord Betchem.

 

"Neal!" Lord and Lady Betchem exclaimed in unison.

 

Neal introduced Mozzie and there were more hugs and questions.

 

"Can I tell you the very concise version, Lord and Lady, Ethlan? We have very important things to do, here and at the other Keeps. We have been fortunate enough to discover the murderers and be able to get rid of them at Steel, and I am sure we will be able to here, as well, by your leave?"

 

The three ‑ as well as their slaves standing by ‑ looked startled, as well they might!

 

"You know who is doing this, Neal?"

 

"Who and what! And in your case, where!"

 

"Tell us and we will apprehend them immediately!"

 

Neal paused, wondering where to start.

 

"Lord and Lady Betchem, Ethlan, at Steel it was four men using certain conscious plants, forcing them to kill," Mozzie said. "Neal went in and identified the plants and found that they had been blackmailed into killing, told that their home planet would be wiped out if they did not comply completely. Lira and her sister made sure that their planet was not in imminent danger of destruction, at which point the plants turned on their captors, thus eliminating both them and the necessity of a Judgement Gathering. We, with Lira's help, then took the plants home."

 

"The plants are conscious?" Lady Betchem asked, curious.

 

"In a certain way, dear Lady," Lira told her.

 

"And they can talk?"

 

"They can communicate," Lira agreed. "Not clearly, as the Tassin, but enough so that we deduced what was happening."

 

"It is important that we rid your Keep of these plants, and even more, the men, before there is another death," Neal nodded. "And I believe I know where they must be hiding, and it is horrible, so we came here immediately."

 

"Where, Neal?" Ethlan said, still trying to put together the things Mozzie had said so succinctly.

 

"In a place not frequented by anyone, and near the roots of the tree that is dying. I believe these poor, starving plants are sapping its energy in an effort to survive, though I believe they prefer animals. If we can speak…communicate with them, we can perhaps reverse the damage."

 

At this, the three Betchemen became animated and started to suggest this place and that, but Lord Betchem said, "I know where they must be! It is an old boiler‑room. It is dark and cold and smells of smoke, so it has not been used for generations."

 

"Can Ethlan show us, and we will go ahead and remove the threat, Lord?" Neal asked.

 

"On one condition, Neal!"

 

"That is, Lord Betchem?"

 

"That you come back and tell us all about this! I am sure there is much you are not saying!"

 

Knowing the Lord's empathy, Neal grinned. "You are very right, Lord. But otherwise it would be a long story, and perhaps lives are in jeopardy."

 

"Remember, Neal ‑ and now Mozzie ‑ you are as my sons when you are here, so I hold you to your promise! I can feel there is much sadness and confusion around this, I can hardly believe what I am feeling…such grief!"

 

"Yes, Lord Betchem, but that is all passed," Mozzie nodded, "and passed into joy!"

 

"You know where it is, son?" the Lord asked Ethlan.

 

"Yes, father, we played there once and had to wash and wash till our skin was raw!" Ethlan laughed. "I will take our kin from Steel right away! Imagine if it is possible that the tree recovers? That would be wonderful!"

 

Ethlan lead the three of them down the long and beautiful wooden corridors and stairs until they were down to the rock foundations. They went down a stone passageway and Neal whispered, "Are we close, Ethlan? I feel we are."

 

"It is on the other side of that door!" Ethlan answered, in kind.

 

"You had better stay well back. Lira and I have had more interactions with these plants."

 

Mozzie drew Ethlan back to the furthest part of the stone passage and they stood with Joster and Merritt. He noted the huge tree‑roots curling around the roof of the passageway. He tried not to fret: there was no stopping Neal ‑ or Lira ‑ but they did not know for certain that these flowers would hear them, trust them. Neal was often sure; Mozzie, never quite sure, always questioning!

 

However, Neal and Lira sat by the door, closed their eyes and Lira sang. Apparently they communed well enough, because Lira stood and said, "We can take the plants now, Mozzie. The men are inside."

.........She looked at Ethlan, "The tree will lose more leaves, Ethlan, the abscising is too far advanced to reverse, but will then recover perfectly."

 

Ethlan's face lit up.

 

Neal opened the door, and went in, and Joster and Merritt, nodding to Ethlan, went in, as did Mozzie, and soon they were all carrying the plants in their pots.

 

"What are you doing?" Ethlan asked. "What are those?"

 

"We take these plants back to their planet, with Lira's help, Ethlan," Mozzie told him. "We will be making quite a few trips. Then you will be able to have this room cleared of the murderers and kidnappers, who lie dead in the gloom at the end of the room."

 

Ethlan looked amazed that all this was happening so fast, and before he said anything, all of them clustered round Lira and vanished.

 

Ethlan waited, and soon they reappeared without the plants. He hurried off to organise some men to drag the bodies away.

He was waiting, having peered into the room rather nervously, when they came back from their last journey.

 

"All done!" Neal smiled. "We should be going to Sunder and Camber ‑ and Laffaysham." Neal's smile wavered a little. He hoped fervently that he wouldn't meet Aramalitha. He still had no idea what to say to her, nor what he would feel when he saw her.

 

"But ‑ you must stay for a meal! My father and mother will be expecting you…"

 

"Ethlan, I will return and explain," Neal promised. "But we came here first after ridding Steel of this evil. But someone at one of the other Keeps may well be in danger because of them. In all good conscience, stay we can not!"

 

"I will explain," Ethlan sighed. "But do not start to take after your father in that you make promises to visit and never keep them, Neal ‑ and Mozzie!"

 

"I am not sure if we will be able to return today or tomorrow, but soon!"

 

"That is always what Caerrovon says, also!" Ethlan said in disgust as they all disappeared, hands on Lira's arms.

 

 

 

The next Keep they found themselves in was Sunder. Several armed guards quickly surrounded them, till they recognised Lira and one of them saw Neal and told a junior to go and find Tallk or the Lord.

 

"Thank you! We are in a hurry, so it is very good of you to welcome us in such a timely fashion!" Neal smiled, making Mozzie wonder if a life of diplomacy and politics were indeed out of Neal's reach!

 

The guards showed them into the Greatroom, and it really was gloomy and small after Betchem, but the Lord had explained to Neal that they didn't really enjoy having too many visitors and having to entertain on any scale, so he understood and tried to excuse the room on that account! After a few minutes Lord Sunder and Tallk appeared, with Jebb in tow, though he didn't seem pleased to see Neal, for some reason.

 

Neal got up and hugged Lord Sunder, to that man's surprise, and shook Tallk and Jebb's hands, smiling sincerely. "It is so good to see you all! I had such fun when I visited here! Lord, Tallk, Jebb, you know Lira, I think ‑ but this is my brother, Sir Mozzie."

 

"Just Mozzie will do," Mozzie said, standing and bowing to each of them.

 

"Dear Lira! We have not seen you for some time, though Kitran was here recently: a man was badly burned. I do not know what we did before we had access to your amazing abilities! Thank you!" Lord Sunder greeted the Chiri with rough grace.

 

"Jaffry, we are here on urgent business," Lira said, and let Mozzie explain again, as he had done such a fine job at Betchem. Of course, at Sunder, the main problem was dissuading each and every Sunderite from insisting that they suit up and kill the villains immediately. It took all Neal's power of persuasion to explain to these hot‑heads that the killers were under duress and the real power was held by a group of humans that had abducted them from another planet.

 

"They were abducted, Neal?" Tallk asked. "As you were initially!"

 

"Yes, but these poor things are kept starving and alone, not able to act because of all their kin being, they thought, at risk. You can imagine how that would feel, I am sure."

 

"How cruel!" Jebb said, to Neal's surprise. "They will listen to you?"

 

"At Steel they did," Neal told him, feeling that it was tactful not to tell them that they had visited Betchem first! If he explained it was because of the health of a tree, these men would think him mad!

 

"But can you give us an idea of where they are?" Mozzie went on. "Somewhere were they have access to food and water if they creep out at night, but somewhere usually unvisited by any member of your Keep? They were hiding in a disused part of our dungeon, which has access to our kitchens and stores."

 

The three Sunder noblemen spoke together, suggesting this place and then that, and Jebb's man suddenly spoke up, with the lack of excess courtesy that characterised the Sunderites: "Master Jebb, Master Tallk, Lord ‑ I think I may have an idea!"

 

They all turned to him.

 

"Say on, Rett!" the Lord ordered.

 

"The old foundry. We have not used it for a generation, since we built the new one. The children used to play there till we boarded it up because one little lad got badly torn on a nail."

 

"Rett, no food or water there, now!" Jebb shook his head.

 

"Master Jebb, begging your pardon, the reason I thought of this is because I heard several of the men who work at the newer foundry complain that food they have left there has been taken. At first small animals were thought to be guilty of the thefts, but then ‑ in fact, Master Tallk, you were called in to settle a…discussion… one man thinking a rival had taken his food? They go out under the trees during their breaks and a bold villain could sneak in from the other side and steal some of the supplies left there."

 

Tallk nodded. "Yes. I remember. The one man's ear was nearly torn off, the other had to have his ribs strapped!" He glanced at his father. "I did not want to bother you with it, Father. It was not worth mentioning. I sorted them out!"

 

Neal and Mozzie had to look down hurriedly to hide sudden grins at the Sunder idea of a discussion!

 

Lord Sunder nodded. "Thank you, Tallk. Yes, that location seems as though it would work for them. Now, what do we need to do? What weapons do we take?"

 

Mozzie said, "Nothing, and we let Neal and Lira do the talking, Lord…they have experience! We turn the weapons on the killers and then take them back to their home.

          "Do come with us, but stay back until the threat is neutralised. They are truly very dangerous, and we know not how to fight them with weapons."

 

The Sunderites all got this look on their faces that expressed without doubt that they would like to at least **_try_ ** and kill this with weapons! Both Neal and Mozzie grinned to themselves again, while Lira said, "They are able to absorb your life energy, Lord Sunder. They are also very hungry at this present time, as they have been kept without adequate food. You could not get within three or four swords‑length before you were dead. They are not even alive as we know the term."

 

At this, the Sunderites drew away a little. They were not good with what Peter would have called 'spooky stuff' that they couldn't understand and that couldn't be killed with an edged weapon!

 

So the five from Steel Keep were allowed to take point on this while the men from Sunder, while not at ease with the type of enemy about to be encountered, were even less comfortable with looking as though they were cowards, and followed behind.

 

When they got to the door of the old building, it was indeed closed and many boards screwed over it. They circled warily, and there was a small side door that seemed more secure and had not been boarded over. Neal leaned against one side and Lira against the other. Neal closed his eyes, and then smiled and nodded.

 

"What is he doing?" Tallk demanded of Mozzie in a whisper. "Going to sleep?"

 

"He had an experience with the living weapon, Tallk, and can sense them now." As Lira started to croon, Mozzie went on, "Lira, with the Chiri abilities is better at actually sharing ideas or concepts with them. Once they know their kin are safe, they will dispose of their captors as they have at the other Keep."

 

Neal opened his eyes and Lira stopped singing and they both stood up and tried the door.

          "It is locked, Lord Sunder…has anyone the key, or could you break it down?" Neal asked. He could have opened it in a minute, as could Mozzie, but he thought that this skill should definitely be kept a secret from such a war‑like Keep of men!

 

The Sunderites seemed not nearly so eager to come close to such a mysterious foe, but Jebb said, "I will do it! Let us get these gone from Sunder!" and ran and found a jemmy‑tool and soon wrenched the door open. Neal and Lira and the others from Steel went in and brought out the plants in their pots.

 

"These are the plants, they did the actual killing, but only because they were forced," Neal said. "We will take them home. Please guard the area while we jump back and forth with Lira?"

 

Soon the only thing in the old building was debris and the bodies of four humans.

 

"It is a pity that know their Keep affiliation we can not," Lord Sunder said. "And thank you, Lira and Neal and Mozzie ‑ and your men ‑ for ridding us of this evil hiding in our midst."

 

"It is certainly our pleasure, Lord Sunder!" smiled Neal. "I will return for a short visit soon, as I have other matters to discuss with you! But for now, we have other Keeps to help!"

 

Everyone thanked each other and Lira jumped the Steel Keepers to the Camber foyer.

 

"Oh!" Mozzie said. "I see what you mean!"

 

The process was repeated and they found the men and plants hiding, this time, in one of the huge ovens that was only used when an enormous feast was planned. Here they had absolutely no trouble from the peaceable Cambermen, who were very happy for them to do what they came to do and had no intention of interfering!

 

Then they jumped to Laffaysham. It was a stark and pleasant contrast to Camber! Lord and Lady Laffay and Thervessalon, their firstborn and first heir, appeared very rapidly, since they had just taken the mid‑day meal.

          "Lira! Neal! Mozzie!" Lord Laffay exclaimed, happily. "How lovely to see you all! My kinsmen!" and they all shared hugs as they had at Betchem! Neal glanced across at Mozzie, for a few years ago Mozzie would have considered torture a reasonable alternative to all this more affectionate physical contact, but that man was smiling, a little as though he was amused at being so accepted in High Brethsham Society! Neal relaxed, glad that Mozzie could now enjoy being welcomed!

 

When Mozzie explained, all the Laffays talked and discussed and couldn't think where the evil was holed up. While this was going on, Neal turned to Lira.

 

"Sweet lady, can you feel them here? I find them more easily each time, and I think they are above us!"

 

Lira smiled gently at him and nodded. "Think you that they will listen to counsel?"

 

"We can but try!" Neal said, and went and stood closer to the vociferous group. "Sirs and Madam?"

 

They stopped politely and turned and Neal asked, "Is there somewhere high, above the normal rooms?"

 

"Oh, yes ‑ the cupola!" Thervessalon nodded. "No‑one goes there since the wars were won, except to check on the bells and ring them for mid‑winter and on any very special occasion."

 

"Can we go there?" Neal asked.

 

"You take our kin, Thervessalon!" Lady Laffay said, calmly. "They know what they are doing!"

 

The heir had something in his features that reminded Neal of his own adoptive father, though with more maturity in his face for he was, of course, much older. His smile was as easy and frequent, his body had the same loose‑limbed grace of motion. He led them up the beautiful curved marble stairs, and they had the chance to observe the plasterwork and painting. As they rose from floor to floor, the walls changed from one fresh pastel colour to another, all picked out in white. White statues and vases full of fragrant flowers stood in niches by the lovely archways.

 

"You have such a beautiful Keep!" Neal couldn't help saying.

 

Thervessalon glanced back, smiling down at Neal. "We like to think so! It is a great deal of work to maintain it as you see it, but it gives us much pleasure and, hopefully, to our guests also!

          "You both must come and spend more time here…I understand you are both artists? Your earlier trip about this same trouble was so short and taken up with tedious talk and meetings."

 

"I would like that!" Neal nodded. He was going to have to get over Aramalitha at some point. "Some of the planets greatest artists came from Laffaysham!"

 

"We like to think all the great artists come from Laffaysham!" Thervessalon said with a wink. "Here we are…now there is this passageway, and then there is the normal look‑out, below the bells…there is only a ladder set into the walls on two sides to climb up to the cupola proper. It is glassed and a reasonably protected and pleasant area from which to watch for trouble even on the most inclement night!"

 

When they went into the look‑out, it was so large and fine compared to Steel's rather rudimentary and extremely practical equivalent that Neal grinned again. This looked more like a very elaborate gazebo built to a billionaire's tastes! Above it were not just the four bells as Sunder and Steel Keeps had, this had a full carillon of all sizes gleaming above them.

 

"I can feel them from here, Lira!" Neal whispered. "Can we try to reach them?"

 

Soon, they heard thumps from above as the men collapsed. "It is going to be interesting getting the pots down from there!" Joster remarked.

 

"Perhaps we will just translate from up there, Thervessalon!" Neal suggested. "In which case we will take our leave of you now. We will call when we have the last of the flowers and you can send men in to take away the bodies and clear the room."

 

"Oh, no, you are not doing that to me!" the heir said to their surprise. "I want to see these plants that have wreaked such havoc, even though not at their volition!"

 

So he climbed up with those from Steel and gazed at the flowers in awe. "They are aware of us!" he said, as the flowers leaned towards each of them.

 

"They sense our energy," Lira told him. "They could kill us all, but they are not murderers and, as we, try not to kill other beings of high consciousness. I had to explain that the men would be killed for the murders they had committed before they willingly leached them of life, even though those same men mistreated and deceived them."

 

"They are so beautiful and look so harmless!"

 

"You should see them at night!" Neal told him. "They are quite magnificent! I doubt I can paint their brilliance, but I feel I have to try!

.........."And they are far from harmless!"

 

"Like certain women!" Thervessalon chuckled. "We could break them in half with one hand, yet they have the capacity to render us powerless and enslave us with a smile!"

 

"And can destroy whole cities, but usually do not, but rather build homes and businesses," Mozzie said. "One of our planets philosophers said, 'The true man wants two things: danger and play. For that reason he wants woman, as the most dangerous plaything.'"

 

Neal glanced at his friend, for it seemed an unusual quotation for him to bring forth. "They can also be a wonderful safety net," he murmured.

 

Thervessalon, meanwhile, laughed at the quotation, thinking it sometimes apt, and watched them pick up the plants and disappear before descending to the next level down. He called for slaves to come to remove the bodies, then looked out over the landscape. He was wondering if the rumours of Neal and Aramalitha were true: there was certainly a new portrait of his cousin in the gallery. It was painted with superb technique but also imbued with life by an artist having tenderness in eyes, hands and heart, and the signature on it was that of this young son of Steel. Yet visit again he had not.

 

Thervessalon sat a while, looking over his home, and pondered. This adoptive heir seemed honourable, but he, as Laffay heir, should perhaps question the young lady to ensure that he had not been unkind to her. After all, he seemed nice enough, but he was an alien!

 

 

 

They translated back to their own Keep in the late afternoon. Though Lira had facilitated the first jumps, and Neal and Mozzie had helped after knowing their landing places, it felt as though they had trekked long distances, and they seemed unreasonably tired and hungry…except Lira, of course.

 

Mozzie asked Ophera if the Lord was available and they could perhaps eat the evening meal early? Her roast was ready and resting, the greens could be steamed at any time, so Shiral, who had come in for minor first aid for a cut (and who was healed by Lira), called Lord Steel and soon the Keep was gathering.

 

Lira said she should go and Neal hugged her and Mozzie squeezed her hand and, with a smiled salute to Steel, she left.

 

June came through a little late, as no‑one had wanted to waken her, and Tammy and Diana sat her between them so she could share Theo, whom they were passing back and forth as they ate.

 

As usual, all those present shared interesting or funny things that had happened during the day. It felt as though the Keep was getting back to normal!

 

 _But_ , thought Steel, _we must not fall into taking people or this happiness and togetherness for granted!_

 

 

Mozzie disappeared hurriedly after the meal was finished, leaving the rest of the slaves to help with the washing up and all the other end‑of day chores in the busy kitchen.

 

As they left the kitchen to go and finish other tasks or relax, Mozzie gestured for Neal, Tammy and Diana ‑ and Theo, now peacefully asleep in Diana's arms ‑ to follow him. They looked at each other, but none knew what this was about! He led them to his and Neal's suite…which was an open secret now, and since Neal had other hiding places if he really needed them, and Mozzie had the inner room, neither of them minded their best friends joining them here!

 

The place was softly illuminated by light‑bugs set in their pretty glass containers on wall and tables. Comfy chairs, collected over the time they'd stayed there, both from Earth second hand stores and spare ones from the Keep, were set in a square, and the fire was blazing warmly. Bottles of wine, fruit juices, the makings of tea and Earth coffee and little treats were covering the tables where Neal's art‑work usually lay.

 

"This is very nice, Moz!" Neal started, and then saw that both June and Sally were there. He moved quickly over and hugged Sally hard. "It has been far too long!" he said, kissing her cheek.

 

"It has! Mozzie told me what happened ‑ oh, Neal, I'm so sorry and so very glad I didn't know till you were back and healthy!"

 

Neal made a face. "It wasn't difficult for me, Sal! I can see that at least _some ‑_ " here he made a face at Mozzie, " ‑ of the people here were concerned, and not just for who had first claim on my room!"

 

Steel came in at that moment, stood letting his eyes adjust to the softer light. "Are you using this for entertaining now, boys? When Tammy called me here I thought she had mis‑thought!"

 

Mozzie answered, "We are, Caerrovon! I would like to introduce you to my Sally!"

________He brought Sally forward. She was a little nervous of meeting this tall, all-powerful alien Lord even though Mozzie and Neal had spoken of him so fondly, and Steel stepped closer and took her hand and kissed it. "I am charmed and honoured to meet you, Sally! I have been wondering when my son Moz was going to bring his special lady to meet me…and you must indeed be special, as I believe his heart is not given often or lightly!"

 

Sally, just adjusting to watching Steel's lips speak Sheel while she heard English spoken by Mozzie's ear‑bug (on loan till he could get one for her, since Moz and Neal could speak both), tilted her chin and grinned. "His trust and loyalty, Sir, is even harder to win, so you must be an extremely unusual man, more so because of your vast power, an attribute Mozzie considers abused almost without exception!"

 

Neal watched this, smiling to himself. Diana winked cross the room at him and they grinned. Mozzie, wearing his finest, most deeply‑brilliant jacket, was enjoying being the centre of attention. Miracles indeed abounded!

They all found seats and Mozzie said, "I brought a selection of our ice‑wines. I think that this planet has not discovered them and they could easily be made here at Steel, Caerrovon. These are from an estate called Reif, a winery in an area called Canada. They have weather almost as bad a Sheel ‑ well, parts of the country can! ‑ and make a good proportion of the ice wine made on Earth.

 

"The weather does get cool at Steel," the Lord nodded. "Not as bad as further to the south, of course, but it can be brisk."

 

"We have been here in the winter, my Lord!" Neal told him. "And you do not have to sell us the Keep and lie to do it ‑ the weather here in winter is freezing in every sense of the word!"

 

Caerrovon chuckled.

 

Mozzie continued, "It is true. I have a bottle here to open now, but the rest I set on the next window‑sill wrapped in damp napkins, and they will be perfectly chilled, Caerrovon!"

 

They told Sally about Neal's death and resurrection in more detail. They told her about Theo's unusual birth, and they enjoyed the wine and Steel tried Earth coffee.

 

"That is…an acquired taste! ‑ " he said, blinking, "though the fragrance is delightful, I shall switch to tea, I think."

 

"You are not an immediate convert, my Lord?" Neal asked.

 

"It is, to my taste, very bitter, Neal!"

 

"Have some more wine!" Mozzie said. "This wine you will will enjoy, Caerrovon. It is as a dessert in itself. And here are some Earth cheeses, as well, and some Earth fruit."

 

There was a period of undemanding, pleasant conversation and then Tammy and Diana said they must get Theo fed again and put down. "He is very good, very easy‑going, but he also has gone through a stressful time," Tammy told them as they thanked everyone and left.

 

Those remaining found themselves regarding each other in the gentle light.

 

"Have I ever told you how grateful I am that you accepted my offer and became my sons, Neal and Mozzie?" Steel said. "And on top of everything, you have now rid our Keeps of this mysterious menace."

 

"Please, my Lord ‑ it is what anyone would have done." Neal shrugged it off.

 

"The profession of criminal has always demanded a certain level of fearlessness and quick‑thinking, Lord Steel," June told him.

 

Steel looked around. "All of you here are ‑ or were ‑ criminals, except fair Sally, am I right?"

 

Sally sat up and said, "Indeed, you are misinformed, my Lord! I was a far more successful criminal than either of these smash‑and‑grab artists!"

 

Neal and Mozzie exclaimed in horror at this appellation!

 

"Well, all right, that's a slightly crude way of putting what you do, but I ‑ I am a ‑ oh. Oh, well! I was a hacker of supreme prowess, delicacy and precision and was never caught. Or even suspected."

 

"A wood‑cutter?" Steel asked. "My ear‑bug seems to think ‑ ?"

 

The Earthlings looked at each other and laughed.

"Our systems were controlled by machines, my Lord," Neal tried. "Those of big companies and governments were supposed to be very secure, so that no‑one could get at the information. Sally was a hacker, meaning someone who could…manipulate the machine codes to gain access to and even change the information or how it was handled by the machines. A good hacker gets in and out undetected. Sal was one of if not the best. For now we have no computers, so she develops other skills!"

 

"Not a bad description, Neal!" Sally agreed.

 

"So you did to Earth machines what your dear Mozzie did to my financial and legal papers," Steel pointed out, drily.

 

Mozzie laughed. "I had not thought of it that way…but yes. But usually…often…Sally took information from the machines or changed something. I did not, though I have re‑organised the books since!"

 

"I am so glad, as I find it one of the more tedious aspects of my position!" Steel told him. "And Lady June, you, too, had a criminal past, am I correct?"

 

June smiled. "I was more a criminal by marriage, but had to take part in quite a lot of my husband's illegal dealings, especially when he was locked away by the authorities. It was a very scary time and I had to learn fast. He never kept anything from me after that that I might need if I found myself on my own!"

 

"Lady June," Steel said, seriously, changing the atmosphere and leaning forward, "by what source of wisdom did you keep Neal with you when he was dead?"

 

"I found it in an old book," June smiled, and only she and Mozzie knew that she was quoting a saying attributed to George Washington Carver.

 

Steel studied his hand for a moment. "I was considering destroying the plants and the men, you know. I thought Neal might have been wrong, Mozzie might have heard him incorrectly. If I had not trusted these two, and you had not been so adamant, we would have lost Neal ‑ and no jokes, Mozzie, I was heartbroken, and so were you. I still understand not, Lady June.                                         ......."Neal was cold and lifeless. You are not a stupid woman, you knew in your head he was dead and that no normal force could restore him. While I appreciate the fact that you were appealing to the Great Creator, how did you have any hope as the days wore on with no change?"

"There were times when even my hope weakened, Lord," June told him gravely. "But there are three great powers in the universe…Lira told us one of them, but there are three…hope is one, and I kept Neal because I had hope, even though it wavered. Then there is love, which of course I have for both of these boys.  And when hope is at its weakest, Lord, there is still faith."

 

 

 

 

 

The End of Chapter 23

 

 

You know, you know...!


	24. Moving so fast he can't find himself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mozzie knows Neal, and Mozzie is a little worried. Meanwhile Neal finds ways to be so busy that he hasn't got time to process.

 

Mozzie was a little worried about Neal. A great deal had happened to him…dying and all couldn’t be easy. They had been little busy, finding out about the plants and getting them home…and Neal was, always had been, a private person, keeping his emotions to himself.

 

 

Not in the way Mozzie was private, of course. Mozzie preferred to never be seen or if he was, just told most people nothing, or joked in quotation marks, and left. Neal loved to converse. He had driven some of the agents and cops mad when they tried to interview or interrogate him because he could literally talk for hours, interesting stuff, make them like him, tell them nothing personal or pertinent, but plant seeds of mis‑directions in their minds. Mozzie had always admired, even envied Neal that talent.

 

He himself was brilliant, but didn’t really care for people as a whole, didn’t feel sympathy, empathy, whatever drove Neal. He didn’t like hurting people and wanted very much to help good folks who were being hurt…but generally he’d rather do it anonymously and from afar. He had done without strong shoulders to lean on and warm arms to hold him for the vast majority of his life and didn’t understand that, for some people, that and that alone was the help they needed. He only understood when he saw Neal provide it. It was one of the few things that made Mozzie feel inadequate. He’d got over his lack of physical appeal because he had come to understand and accept that from a very early age. This inadequacy he only knew because of Neal.

 

But he _knew_ Neal. As much as anyone on Earth or Brethsham. He knew when Neal was using the talk‑and‑talk‑and‑misdirect with _him_. Neal had tried it a little after Kate and the plane, but that time he was too shaken to carry it off – even with _Peter!_

 

He wasn’t quite sure what Neal was hiding, but considering the context, it could be merely discomfort and it could be something far worse. Usually, given a breathing space, Neal would share.

 

He hadn’t. Not a word.

 

 _And yes,_ Mozzie shook his head regretfully, _my lack of empathy usually didn’t provide even a verbal shoulder, but he always knew I cared and that I was there to help, didn’t he?_

 

Mozzie continued to give Neal time and space and to make himself available, and Neal gave himself away a little more: he was always involved in something and never sat down to share a bottle of good wine with his oldest friend.

 

Of course, Neal might actually _be_ very busy. But Mozzie, with the familiarity of their friendship, so often the other’s only confidant and ally, just knew something was eating at Neal.

 

 

Neal spent some time talking to the workers in the textile factories at Steel. It was fun to go there with no money, no con, nothing with which to bribe them and, because he was the heir, have them help him. Gladly and willingly! And he discovered that they would have done it for anyone! The society here had many advantages over Earth. Money wasn’t so tight, everyone could give each other time! How valuable it was.

 

He also jumped to England for a time and then to the RSA. He loved the beaches around the Cape, thought he should spend more time in South Africa when he had a chance. Take Mozzie on the Wine Route! Just not yet.

 

He spent time sketching and painting, but often in Italy or in his apartment at June’s. He just didn’t want to talk to anyone. Not just yet.

 

He started doing sketches for the portrait of their grandmother, and that made him feel totally weird! Feelings he’d never experienced before.

 

He dressed in his rat‑pack attire and went walking through the New York rain, the drops sounding like nailed‑fingers tapping on his umbrella. He remembered the good times he’d had with Peter…sometimes when they were friends, when there was no rivalry and mistrust and sometimes when there was a lot of mistrust and he was playing Peter! Those were also fun! A small smile tugged his lips.

 

He wondered if he was being unkind, keeping Peter and El at arms’ length still. Both had seemed very relieved and glad that he was alive. He sighed. That didn’t mean that Peter wouldn’t be mean and controlling when Neal wasn’t freshly back from the dead!

_What’s wrong with me! Why am I avoiding even my Lord and Mozzie? Why do I feel so unlike myself? I know they put it down to the dying…but it wasn’t traumatic, it was nice! We’ve made the other Keeps happy, especially Betchem! I have plans and hopes. Is it that I haven’t seen Aramalitha again? But when was a woman ever an unalloyed delight for me? Except Maya, perhaps, and we hardly knew each other. Bet if I’d stayed she would have ratted me out or left me for Dagleish or something!_

_I’d like what Diana and Tammy have!_

_Why has this episode made me so uncertain of everything? I should be happy…another second chance! I have so much now that I’ve always wanted. Yet it seems that it’s not enough! And it isn’t about a woman. This is about me._

 

He kept an eye open for Peter. The coat and umbrella were a reasonable disguise if he changed his walk. So he changed his walk.

 

The only thing that seemed to draw Neal onwards was the other people and their needs. The next day he changed and jumped back to Steel…it was twixt the mid‑day meal and sundown, so he asked a stablehand which horse needed a little light exercise. He was given an older mare, a sweet natured girl with lovely gaits, saddled her and cantered off to the large group of buildings that made up the textile factories of Steel.

 

He had spent some time here, not enough to understand the various industries, but knew that they were just as complex as the same industries on Earth. However, here they had spent a great deal of time developing dyes that were non‑toxic. Some were not yet as colour‑fast as they might be, but the dyers would re‑spray clothing that faded. There was a huge advantage to the relatively small area of the Alliance Keeps and the messengers and wagoners who took mixed loads from Keep to Keep except in the depth of winter, when only important loads were transported, and by sleighs where the snow‑pack permitted.

 

He knew they used a cotton‑like vegetable fibre that came from one of the trees that grew in many areas that the children called ‘fluff trees’. Small‑acreage yeomen used the trees as wind‑breaks and collected the fibre, and poor women and children collected it from trees in commonage or at the edges of the Lord’s fields. There were also several plants that gave fibres like Earth’s flax, nettle and hemp. Then there were a number of animals that responded to the cold weather by growing lovely thick coats with long fibres that could be spun and then woven or knitted.

 

The workers saw him and acknowledged him as he drew up. One called a lad to hold his horse and Neal grinned. It was all so civilised! He patted the boy’s shoulder as he began to walk the mare, and went into the main office area that dealt with orders and all the administration of the textile industry.

 

 

“Master Neal!” said the woman he’d spoken to before. “How are you?” So the tale of his demise…albeit exaggerated!... had circulated here, too.

 

“Perfectly well as you see me, Aldrana. How did the new batch of cloth turn out?”

 

“I will have it fetched immediately!” She called through, “Trop! Bring the sample cloth for Master Neal!”

 

It appeared that ghosts were as uncommon here as in most areas, as it took four of the younger workers to carry the large parcel to the front counter. Neal ignored this and fingered the finely knitted netting.

 

“Do you think this will fulfil the purpose, Neal? This plant gives fibres that are resistant to mould and weathering. It is called Satler, from the old word for sails, as the same is used for sails and awnings and coverings, but of course we had to make it light and airy, so we mixed in some lappa fur to give it more stretch. Lappa can me submerged regularly and never suffer damage!”                        

 

“So this sail‑cloth fibre is like our hemp…we call the sail material canvas, and the plant is cannabis! It is very weather resistant, also, makes the best ropes and a wide variety of fabrics.

         “We will have to test this in the field, Aldrana! But from what I remember, it seems the right weight. We may still be tinkering with it if it does not perform as I hope!”

 

Since Mozzie had gone to Italy with Sally and June, Neal briefly took his leave of his Lord and, knowing that the Sunder warriors and guards thought that accosting visitors was their main source of entertainment, he regretfully packed a bag, took some supplies and saddled up a horse. Taking some little gifts and sweets, he set off on the road. He would have risked jumping to Betchem or Camber, and saying that Lira had brought him but had to leave immediately...but not Sunder!

 

He was making good time with the occasional stop to give sweets and dried fruits to the children and speak briefly with the yeomen and tenant‑farmers bringing in harvest and setting their farms to rights for the coming winter. He asked the names of their wives and children, a few dogs and in one case a particularly huge and shaggy horse! He knew people liked to be remembered by name! It made them feel special and cost him nothing.

 

He rode a mile or so on from the farm with the large horse and heard hoof‑beats behind him. Up cantered Joster, looking irritated.

 

“Where are you going, Master Neal?”

 

Neal groaned. “Joster! You have important work at Steel! You train young warriors! We have found the murderers and… neutralised them. I do not need a nursemaid!”

 

“I am not bothering to have this conversation with you, Master Neal! I am just coming with you!”

 

“I am not going to be staying long!”

 

“Then I will not be wasting much of my time!”

 

“Perhaps I should have encouraged the excess of formality, deference and obedience, Joster!”

 

“Yes, Master Neal,” grinned Joster, “perhaps you should!”

 

The two of them arrived at Sunder early in the day. The forbidding‑looking Keep was softened by a thick mist that swathed about it. The whole area looked just as though a cloud was sitting on the ground. They stopped a little way from the gate and looked at this and, true to form, were soon surrounded by warriors. But Jebb rode out to join the warriors this time!

 

“Uh‑oh,” Neal said under his breath.

 

“Worry not,” Joster said, confidently, “I have seen him fight. I can take him easily!”

 

“Yes – leaving me with the rest of the hoard! Let us not start a Keep war if we are not forced into it,” Neal said, as Jebb reached them. “Though of your prowess, Joster, I am not in any doubt!”

 

“Greetings and welcome,” Jebb said. “One of the guards said he thought it was you, Neal of Steel, so I came out myself.”

 

Joster eyed him suspiciously, but at a slight head‑gesture from Neal he fell back with the Sunder gate guards.

 

“Thank you for coming to greet us, Jebb!” Neal said, cheerfully.

 

“I wished to have the opportunity to thank you for removing the murderers from our Keep. I knew one of the young men killed, and we are a small Keep, much like Steel, and the loss is keenly felt.”

 

“Yes, I understand. I am sorry, Jebb.”

 

“One of your messengers brought the accounts to us, you know – all the financial stuff that goes on between the Keeps due to our trade?”

 

Neal nodded, smiling a little. Jebb went on, “He said you risked your life to discover the method of killing. He actually said you were dead! – he must have been misinformed.”

 

Neal considered an easy deflect ‑ _he must have been_ ‑ but too many people knew, and he didn’t want to alienate the suddenly polite Jebb, so he said,

“No, I was apparently dead for two days, son of Sunder. I hardly understand it, but the plants took my life energy, realised I was a conscious being, and returned it when my body was taken close enough. It seems very odd to me, too! I felt as though I had been unconscious for a candlemark or two, but it was two days.”

 

“Unconscious?”

 

“Just as though I had been knocked on the head in a fight – but I had no headache when I woke! I was just very hungry! But to my family and even a great many Chiri, I seemed dead.”

 

Jebb glanced across. He wondered where this smooth‑looking, smooth‑talking alien had ever experienced being knocked out, but said nothing. He thought a moment. “That was brave, Neal, walking in and not knowing what was there!”

 

“Frustration, Jebb! I was getting so angry at not knowing!”

 

 

“That, I understand!” Jebb laughed. Then he sobered as they neared the gate. “Neal – I treated you discourteously when you first visited. My family made it very clear to me. I am sorry. For some reason…”

 

“For some reason we seem very different and rubbed one another the wrong way. But we might still be friends, Jebb!”

 

“And one day you will tell me how you got past my guards?”

 

“One day!” Neal promised, winking at him as they passed through the gates and into the stone passageway.

 

This time, when Jebb pressed him to join him for a late breakfast, Neal accepted. Jebb had already eaten, but nibbled on a few sausages, ribs and bread rolls while Neal and Joster enjoyed an informal meal.

 

“Is your visit of such importance as before?” Jebb said, as Neal pushed his plate away.

 

“Perhaps more, Jebb! Though not as urgent! – you are still experiencing the heavy morning fog, I see!”

 

“We are. Some people hate it – Tallk, for example – but it does keep everything a little cool until it burns off, and it sometimes stays the whole day!”

 

“Then I think I have an idea that might help you! Can we perhaps speak to your father and brother, too, or would you like this to be your project?”

 

Jebb grinned his rough grin. “Perhaps it might be better to consult my father!”

 

Soon Lord Sunder, Jebb and Neal were standing poring over Neal’s drawings laid out on the desk in the Lord’s study.

 

“This looks very odd, Neal!”

 

 

“I know – and it may not work at all! I just know that on my planet where large trees grow and little rain falls, this is usually the reason they grow – the fog or mist. In some places with very poor water resources the people use nets like this to catch the moisture as though it were fish!”

 

“And this is the netting?”

 

“No. Get the original Earth technology I can not. I wanted this to be a source of revenue for Steel as well as helping you, Lord, so I am working with our textile experts to develop something that will work. This is a first prototype!”

 

“So we stretch it on frames and attach …”

 

“Like a water‑gutter to the bottom. It can be very simple. The water catches on the netting ‑ ”

 

“As on the grasses!” Jebb nodded, enthusiastically. “When there is a thick fog, though there is no rain, walking through the grass wets our trousers completely!”

 

Neal nodded and went on, “As the tiny droplets get too heavy it runs down the net, into the gutter that is a little lower on one side, and down into a down‑spout of sorts. It is unlikely, Lord, Jebb, that this will give you all your water needs in the dry season, but may give you drinking water and make you less dependent on help from other Keeps…or give the other Keeps more time to respond to your need!”

 

“What do you get in return, Neal?” Lord Sunder asked with a smile.

 

“A potential market for some new textiles, Lord Sunder! This, though, is just sample for you to try, and at no cost to you. And I would attach the frames to your roof, perhaps…do not take too much of this moisture from any tree as they probably need everything they can catch!”

 

“This is a brilliant idea, Neal!”

 

“It is quite brilliant. It is not mine, however – I am just hoping that this technology that was used on Earth before the wars can be adapted for your needs.”

 

“Can we do anything to thank you, Neal? This and the solving of the murders?”

 

“Now that you mention it, Lord, there are a couple of things! I will be quite willing to pay, however!”

 

“Tell me,” Lord Sunder smiled.

 

“One is a sword to my specifications. I know that is not cheap, Lord. I want a _good_ sword!”

 

“And?” the Lord’s craggy face was still showing his amusement. Neal was unlike most Sunderites!

 

“And – again not very cheap – I wish to have one of your silversmiths and goldsmiths make me some charms. I have designs, and most are not very detailed. But I will need a significant number. I can supply the gold as well as payment.”

 

“These are for you?”

 

“For a friend.”

 

 

They looked at the plans of the Keep, and went onto the roof and checked where the frames could be installed.

 

 

“They may look a little strange from the road,” Jebb remarked.

 

“I do not think many passersby or visitors will laugh at Sunder,” his father said, complacently. Then, after a thought, “To be honest, I care not, if we have water!”

 

“So,” Neal said, carefully stepping on their tiles, “you never have surplus water – you catch all the snow you can and pump all the water you can and have no excess to store in reservoirs?”

 

“No. The water is deep. It has restricted the growth of our Keep. But worry about that we do not. We are good warriors, and we also know that it is the rich‑looking, fat‑looking Keeps that are the bigger prize, let alone the fact that we are a dangerous Keep to attack!”

 

“Yet we are all allies, are we not?” Neal asked as they climbed back in through the one window. “So if – say – Camber was attacked, we would all have to help her?”

 

The Lord grinned rather evilly. “They pay us extra in food. Just to be sure we would always help them!”

 

“Protection racket!” Neal chuckled. “ You would help them anyway, would you not?”

 

“We would, of course. We tell them that, Neal of Steel, but always with a slight tone of reluctance. It is bad of us, but we like their produce! And we are a small Keep and need to survive, after all!”

 

Neal said, amused, “They do not look as though they are suffering, Lord Sunder!”

 

“That is what we thought! And if they were attacked, Neal, what a chance for our warriors to prove themselves!” the Lord said, a note of excitement in his voice.

 

“And then they would be even more in our debt!” Jebb remarked happily.

 

Neal looked from father to son. _No doubt **whatsoever** that they would win!_

 

 _Just like Mozzie and I planning a dangerous heist! Perhaps that level of confidence is essential_.

 

Neal felt that, if Steel was no longer an option, Diana could certainly survive at Sunder, though she did love her guns! She had the same joy in expressing her abilities!

 

 _Like Asterix and Obelix and the enemy soldiers’ helmets to prove who won the challenge_!

 

He and Joster left the next day, leaving the Sunderites to test the frame‑and‑net method for collecting water from the fog. He wished he’d been able to visit Peru and Chile, where he knew they used the method successfully (or had before the wars), but he had no‑one there to jump to, the Internet was gone, and so he had to rely on his memory.

 

He had also spoken to two of the goldsmiths and handed them some small silver and gold bars that came from the Slaver’s hoard. When they understood what he wanted the only problem was convincing them that there was no great need for embellishment or great detail! He tried to comfort them by saying that there was no rush, he wanted them by mid‑winter, but that seemed to disappoint them further!

 

He had wondered if he should visit Betchem, but it would be a good thing to encourage his Lord to accompany him, and hopefully Mozzie, as well. But he was relatively close…he had promised he’d let them know what had happened…he decided to make a quick detour.

 

“We have no change of clothing, Neal!” Joster complained.

 

“I shall jump back tonight. You’ll have to tell me what you want.”

 

“Well, full livery, for one thing!”

 

“I am not bringing the damned Steel Flag!”

 

**_“Master!”_ **

 

“No, it is very pretty and regal and all that, I give it the honour to which it is due ‑ but I am not bringing it! If they like us not in all our dirt, they can send us away!”

 

“We may not be popular, and your father the Lord may be unhappy about that.”

 

Neal nearly blinded the surprised Joster with his grin! “The advantage of dying, Joster! I can, at present, get away with almost anything! In fact‑ !” He reined in his horse and Joster had to stop and turn around and come back.  “Perhaps I should not waste this heaven‑sent opportunity – if you can excuse the phrase – on merely being sloppy about protocol at Betchem!”

 

He sat scheming while his horse took the opportunity to snatch a clump of grass. Joster, who was beginning to understand the younger heir, became instantly alarmed.

 

“Master Neal! You can do nothing to irritate or annoy your father! It is not fair, he just lost you!”

 

“Exactly! Joster – are there Crown Jewels on this planet? How far is the Palace of the King?”

 

“Neal, stop teasing me!”

 

“Well, on Earth in feudal times, as heir, I would have been presented at Court by now…but you are right! We would definitely have to have the Steel Flag to con our way into the Royal Palace! But I could jump back and get it…and some fancier clothing!”

 

“Neal!”

 

“You are right, so right! It is a heist that demands more planning! I know not even if the Royal Palace has a moat and if I can translate with a boat…maybe not. But I can surely translate with an ‘inflatable dingy’! Or perhaps a swimming ring with a horse’s head! That would startled them!”

 

“What is this thing? The ear‑bug has no clue!”

 

“I am just joking, Joster! Think of something worth stealing or forging I can not – other than my grandmother!”

 

“Neal, are you _sure_ this dying has not badly affected you?”

Neal chuckled. “I think not, Joster. I was always like this! Come. Let us go to Betchem!”

 

Neal was once again awed by Betchem Keep’s powerful visage as they rode towards it. He had seen many of Earth’s castles, and even been inside some of them… _even been inside some of them legally!_

 This structure was easily as impressive as most of them, though lacked that fairy‑tale‑castle air – which Laffaysham approximated. Laffaysham reminded him a little of a more‑colourful cross between Neuschwanstein and Swallow’s Nest, pastel and frosted colours blending attractively, with the added beauty of flared bell‑shaped roofs to the towers and turrets.

 Betchem was like a polished‑wood version of perhaps Dobroyd Castle, or Conway. And those castles tended to have cities around them, whereas these Castle Keeps were cities within themselves, and very expansive.

 

They were seen by the gate guards seated above those impressive, impregnable‑looking gates, and Neal waved casually, making Joster wince.

 

Neal didn’t care. If the gates remained shut, he was quite happy to return to Steel.

 

But the gates opened smoothly and two mounted liveried soldiers rode out to greet them.

 

Neal smiled at them and the older one recognised him and said something to the younger one.

 

“See, Joster – proper manners! We have not our pennants, so they dispense with theirs so as not to make us feel uncomfortable!”

 

Neal stood up on his knees and waved at them as they approached. “Greetings! I am Neal, son of Steel. I am in the area and wish to pay a short call on the Lord if he is available!”

 

The guards responded to his cheer and smiled back, escorting them through the gates. One of them was obviously a Sensitive, as Ethlan, Ambreth and Floretha hurried up as they were dismounting and Joster was collecting the reins of Neal’s steed in order to take it to the stables.

 

“Neal!” Ethlan exclaimed, hugging him as though they had known each other for decades! “You came back! I can hardly believe it!”

 

“I had time‑sensitive business with Sunder and, since we were closer than usual, I decided to keep my promise and explain all that had happened with the plants and the murderers,” Neal told them, smiling. “How are The Clan Betchem?”

 

“We are all well, Neal!” Ambreth said, patting his shoulder. “Come, we must get father and mother, we need hear this story! There are so many rumours, we need to hear it from you!”

 

“But do you need food?” Floretha asked. “Come – leave your horses with one of our men, and you and your man come and eat!”

 

“That would be very nice, Floretha,” Neal told her, “if a problem it is not. Let me present my man, Joster.”

 

They took him and Joster off to the kitchens and sat off to one side, just as Neal and Joster would have in the Steel kitchens, while kitchen maids and men brought them various foods, wine and tea.

 

“So tell us anything till we are with our parents you can not!” Ambreth said.

 

“So – how is our kinsman, Steel.”

 

“He is well, relieved that everything to do with the killings resolved itself,” Neal told him, trying some sort of fungi and meat and cheese in a little pie. “This is good!”

 

“Have another! And your brother, Mozzie? He is well? You must tell us how you met him!”

 

“He is very well. He has this most delightful girlfriend, Sally. She is elegant when she wants to be, a – oh, we call it a ‘tom‑boy’ – she can act like a boy, not worry about her hair or her clothes? – when she wants to be, and may be a match for Mozzie in terms of brains! Different, but very, very bright!”

 

“Who is smarter, Mozzie or you?” Ethlan asked with a grin.

 

“Mozzie. He is definitely much cleverer than I am. I am better at a few things, but very few. Mostly athletic things!”

 

“You are humble?”

 

“No, in this I am entirely honest!”

 

“And how did you meet him? Tell us you did not!”

 

“Ambreth, I met Mozzie when I first moved to a large city – like Betchem is here, but bigger, noisier, dirtier, many different types of people, vehicles, businesses. He was conning the public out of their money!”

 

“What?” Ethlan was confused.

 

“Here – are there three small bowls like this, and – ah, I have a piece of paper. Thank you, these slide nicely on the table! I’ll crumple the paper into a little ball. Right.

         “See, I have put it under this middle bowl. Now, I shall wager this Mark…who will bet me that they can keep their eye on the bowl with the paper‑ball beneath and point it out at the end of the bowls being moved around?”

 

The three Betchemen looked at each other. “We have no marks, Neal, but we have our signets…”

 

“You could sign a marker for each Mark you wager?” Neal smiled innocently.

 

“Indeed!”

 

The three each signed on a fresh sheet of paper.

 

“Now, I shall just very simply move the bowls around, around and around each other. Be vigilant! Now – which bowl has the paper under it?”

 

All three pointed to the bowl on the left. Neal lifted it and there was the paper ball. He good‑naturedly laughed at himself and paid each a Mark. “I am definitely out of practice!” he said. “Come, let me try and show you this trick again! Please, give me another chance!”

 

They did, and again, they all found it again. Neal was pouting as he paid, a little put‑out with his failure. “I will get it right! I promise!”

 

 

After that, for thirty‑nine straight times, he got it right.

 

 

Then a slave came in and said, “The Lord and Lady are waiting for you on the upper terrace, Masters and Mistress!”

 

“Oh, what a pity. We’ll have to wait for your luck to change and for you to win your money back!” Neal smiled. He _loved_ this new planet!

 

“But how do you do that?” Ethlan asked as they walked up the stairs.

 

“Magic, Ethlan. I just forgot the spell for a while there.”

 

“But the only time one of us won was when we each chose a different bowl!” Ambreth pointed out. “And then only one of us won, whereas you got the wager placed by the other two, so you always won!”

 

“Yes, it seems that seldom could you all decide on the one bowl, and that the right one. I believe it is often so, competition between siblings,” Neal nodded, as they went abreast up the longest set of stairs in the Keep.

 

“Pity…but you will do better next time! It is just a knack, keeping your attention on the right bowl and not being distracted by the other two and the movement.”

 

“I shall practise!” Floretha promised. “I shall mark one of the bowls and practise watching it!”

 

“That is an excellent idea, Floretha,” Neal nodded approvingly. “Then you can win and become richer than your brothers.”

_Sometimes it would be so easy to burst into laughter! Ambreth is sure there is a trick, but can’t see where it might be! I l **ove** this planet!_

 

Ambreth was still watching him sideways when they came out onto the deck at the very top of the Keep. Neal ignored the view to go over and kiss Lady Betchem’s hand and hug the Lord as he stood up.

 

“Neal, you have to sit down and explain everything! There are wild stories about you being dead for a month and similar nonsense!” Lady Betchem told him.

 

Ambreth brought up a chair for Neal and they all settled.

 

“So, now, thank you for coming back so quickly, Neal! Tell us all that happened!”

 

Neal gave them a précised version of the events leading up to the killing of the human abductors and the ‘repatriation’ of the plants. It was not in his nature to make himself out to be a hero, he certainly did not feel like one and he underplayed his part as much as he could, merely saying he had walked too close to the flowers.

 

“I think you are not telling us all, Neal,” Lord Betchem accused him gently, and Neal was reminded of this man’s strong empathy. “Even I have heard the maids talking of the fact that you are a hero of old, immortal and brave.”

 

“Your maids have too‑vivid imaginations, Lord!” Neal grinned. “I did, indeed, die. I was not heroic, I just knew that we needed to see into the back room. So I went and the plants took my energy. It was not painful or frightening. I just…blacked out? But in that instant, we were aware of each other, the plants and I, and we each recognised the consciousness in the other, so when they could they gave the energy back. _They_ were self‑sacrificing and heroic, Lord, for they were starving. It felt to me a very short time, but it was about two days.

         “I am certainly not immortal in that sense, nor a hero!”

 

“It must have been quite dreadful for your father, your brother!” Floretha exclaimed.

 

“The whole of Steel Keep was in mourning. We got the message of your supposed demise, and your re‑awakening on the same day, within an hour of each other – the former brought by a fast rider, the second was a message brought by the Chiri. We were shocked, preparing to come to your death‑rites, Neal!” Lord Betchem told him.

 

“I am sorry I caused so much bother,” Neal said, startled. “I had not realised that the word would have spread so far and fast! And honestly, all I wished to do was stop the killings!

         “My father was indeed grieving.”

 

“But,” Ethlan pointed out, “you did exactly what you set out to do, so there is no reason to regret your actions. I do think you were brave.”

 

“And you can see from here – the tree is reviving, just as Lira said it would!” Floretha said, standing and pointing.

 

Neal smiled at her. They really did love their trees! “I am so glad. To lose a being of such majesty and age would be a tragedy.”

 

“He is very young in this family of his, though old in our seasons,” Ambreth corrected.

 

“I am glad to have had some small part in saving him for the future. We were so blessed to have the Chiri to bring us and help communicate with the plants and then translate them to their planet,” Neal said. “But to be honest, I would rather not speak of this more. I feel a little foolish about the affair. Would it be unmannerly of me to ask that we speak of other things?”

 

“Not at all, Neal,” the Lord said, “but you and I, we have one last thing to talk about. Come, follow me. We will see the rest of the family again at the evening meal!”

 

Neal wondered what this was all about. He carefully and slowly built some nice, strong shields. He wasn’t sure they’d do him the slightest good…but being asked by extremely powerful and influential men to accompany them all alone didn’t rank amongst his favourite invitations!

 

His inner alarms became more insistent when they neared the gallery, _Did I_ _leave a clue to my intentions?_ but immediately his expression became unruffled and his vital signs calmed automatically. This was, after all, what he trained for. What he lived for!

 

The Lord unlocked the door and then locked it after them. Neal didn’t much like his odds of escaping the room. He wouldn’t have time to pick the lock, he didn’t want to emphasise the point that he could jump without a Chiri, and this Lord, though the oldest of the Alliance Keep lords was a large, powerful warrior. His mind searched for alternatives while keeping up what he thought of as ‘white noise’ under his shield to hopefully distract the Lord from his thoughts and feelings.

 

They stopped in front of the portrait of his grandmother. He smiled up at her.

 

“She is beautiful, Lord, is she not?”

 

“She is. Long ago, your father and my dear friend and kinsman became very angry that she was here and not at her home, as he saw it. At Steel. He was just a small child at the time.”

 

“So your son and daughter told me, Lord Betchem.”

 

“I want to gift it to your Keep, Neal.”

 

Lord Betchem was so taken aback that he actually took a step to steady himself. He was hit by a wave of gladness and joy, but for the briefest instant before that, he was assailed by an even more powerful lash of fury and resentment! He stared at Neal in total amazement.

 

Neal turned to him and asked, a huge smile on his face, “But why, Lord Betchem? She is a glorious painting, and she was commissioned by your wife! She is your sister‑in‑law and belongs here!”

 

Catching his breath, the Lord replied, “She is my sister‑in‑law, but she is your father’s mother, Neal. I have been selfish to keep her here for this long. I have been stubborn about it.”

 

“Then we must pay for her, Lord! She is a great piece of art and worth a fortune.”

 

“Neal, dear boy, she is paint on wood. The lady herself was gorgeous – you can see something of her in her son – but this is not she. This painting can in no way repay you for saving human lives at Betchem and for saving our tree. But it is a token payment, son, and we give it to you and your father, who suffered great, though thankfully fleeting grief. We give it with gratitude and with great love.”

 

Neal stared at him, tears welling up in his eyes. “Thank you, Lord Betchem. Thank you and your Keep for this priceless gift. My father will be delighted, as am I. May I give you a hug?”

 

“Oh course you may, Neal!” Lord Betchem laughed, and hug they did.

 

“I will ask Lira to help me, if that is acceptable to you, Lord Betchem. I would not trust such beauty to a wagoner! Can I leave her here till Lira is free, for she and the other Chiri have been so very busy.”

 

“That is indeed a good idea. You can go and prepare a place for her at Steel.”

 

“She will double the value of our art collection!” Neal smiled up at him.

 

“No, you have some very valuable paintings of older masters, Neal. Sonsharelitha is outstanding, but the fact that her works are modern makes them a little less valuable.”

 

“The worth men place on various art pieces seems sometimes arbitrary, does it not? For this portrait is truly a masterpiece.”

 

They gazed at the large portrait for a little time, then with one accord turned and left the gallery, the Lord locking the door as usual.

 

Neal begged forgiveness to go and wash and change for the meal, and hurried away, assuming (rightly it turned out) that he had been put in the room he used the last time he visited.

 

Joster was there, shaving things neatly set out. Mozzie had continued giving Merritt and Joster pointers on the finer arts of blade maintenance, at least with reference to a cut‑throat razor, the honing and best use thereof. It amused Neal to think of Mozzie teaching these two swordsmen anything about a blade, but their technique when they shaved him was improving!

 

He had jumped back to Steel in the dead of the previous night and returned with a change of clothes for both of them and, at Joster’s insistence, livery for his man.

 

He washed and sat, eyes closed, while Joster pampered him with the hot towel. He had to get his thoughts straight and his emotions under control after the most generous gift from Betchem Keep.

 

 

Meanwhile, Lord and Lady Betchem were also involved in the little rituals of washing and changing for the evening meal.

 

“Was he pleased, my dear?” Lady Betchem asked her Lord as her maid laced up her over‑dress.

 

“He was, very pleased. He said everything that was proper. He expressed his own joy and agreed that Caerrovon would be even more pleased.”

 

“You seem …doubtful in some way?”

 

The Lord shook his head. “Oh no, dear one, he was very glad, almost overwhelmed. I explained that it was a small payment in return for our people’s security and our young tree. He seems to understand, which many outsiders do not, how much we value our trees.”

 

“Then I am glad. We have sometimes spoken of giving her to Caerrovon before, but this is a lovely way to express our gratitude for the bravery of his son.”

 

“Or recklessness, whichever way you choose to see it! I hope our children would take that risk for others, but he truly sees it not as any sort of valour! He is crystal clear in regards to that! I must insist that Caerrovon comes to stay for at least a short visit and tells us of his sons!”

 

“Remember the party! I would like to hear more of that!”

 

“Yes, there was a lot of tension and excitement at those festivities! You are right, my dear – the Earthlings were taking a large part in that.”

 

“Caerrovon always was good at keeping secrets, wasn’t he? Poor little solitary lad as he was! With a father like his.”

 

“And if my eyes and my knowledge of his past did not completely convince me otherwise, I would say the two boys were sons of his loins and not just his heart, for I swear they make him seem as open as a sunny day!

         “Are you nearly ready, my Lady?”

 

They walked in measured steps, followed by their personal servants in their livery.

 

Lady Betchem did not possess her Lord’s level of empathy, she had only the normal second sight of any woman.

 

Because of this, Lord Betchem was free to wonder. He knew he was not mistaken in his reading of Neal’s emotions, but he had never, in all his many seasons, felt two such opposing feelings ride hard on the heels one of another! Fathom any reason for these, he could not.

 

_Perhaps interpret him I can not. After all, he is an alien._

 

 

 

End of Chapter 24

_Okay, so you didn't like Mistaken identity...this one?  
_

 

                                                                                               

 


	25. To Sleep, Perchance to Dream...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The problems between Neal and Mozzie become more urgent and serious.

 

 

Though the ‘Clan Betchem’ tried to make Neal stay and let them give him a proper tour and relax and have some fun, he told them that he was needed back at Steel and, after two days, left the polished Keep and set off.

 

Joster rode in silence to his side. Eventually he asked, “Are you unhappy, Neal?”

 

“Why would I be unhappy? I told you – we are to pick up a beautiful painting for our Lord as soon as a Chiri can give us some time after catching up on everything!

           “Our Lord will be very pleased.”

 

“Yes, Master,” Joster said, dutifully.

 

Neal turned to look at him. “I see your evil plot! You will be polite to me every time you disapprove of something I do, is that it? But what if I learn to enjoy your servility and excess of manners? What will you do then?”

 

“It is not my place to judge you, Master,” Joster said, eyes straight ahead.

 

“Oh, my God!” Neal swore under his breath. “All right, Joster, of what do you disapprove?”

 

“It is not my - ”

 

“Joster!”

 

“It is not that I disapprove, exactly, Neal…I do not think you are happy. You should have stayed a few days at least, got to know all your kinsmen, they were talking of holding a dance for you!”

 

“Mmm…not really in the mood.”

 

“Because of dying?”

 

“No, Joster, not because of dying.”

 

“I remember talking to you when you walked down the corridor the night after you arrived at Steel. I remember helping you and Caleb and Elijah – Diana! – with their acrobatic routine. You had reasons to be miserable, a new slave. Well – I have lived so long in slavery, and with Lord Steel that I can only imagine someone who has to make all their own choices…can, I mean…and then is owned by somebody whom they believe will control their every thought – as some owners do! Yet now you seem…damp.”

 

“Damp?” Neal asked, amused.

 

“Yes. Like wood that refuses to allow the firebugs to light it. It lies there sullenly, the bugs are sad.”

 

“I am not lying anywhere sullenly!”

 

“It is the nearest similarity of which I can think.”

 

“I can only tell you that I seem to be a moody and hard-to-please human, Joster. I should be floating happily, but feel merely not-myself.”

 

“I know a close brush with death – either the killing or the dying part – can be very difficult, Neal. I have faced both. It took me a little while to become settled.”

 

“I hope that is all it is! I am sorry you were assigned to such a difficult human.”

 

“Interesting, though!” Joster commented, and Neal laughed.

 

 

 

By the time Neal reached Steel it was evening. He and Joster had made good time and had eaten all the delicacies with which Betchem had loaded them as they sat round a fire and the darkness had closed in.

 

“Beginning to get colder,” Joster had remarked, poking the fire with a stick. Neal, shivering, had wondered if all humans everywhere wished to interact with nature – poke a fire with sticks, or throw orange peel into it, skip stones over calm water, hurl things off high places, or jump in and out of dancing wavelets. He lay back and looked at the silent, starry heavens in all their brilliance. He was also wondering if he would ever get acclimatised to the cold of Brethsham! It seemed unlikely.

 

So Neal was relieved to reach the stables of Steel, feel all the warmth of the animals, and have Merritt take over the horses while Joster and he carried their baggage back to their rooms. He wondered who had lit the fires, for the Keep was pleasant.

 

“Neal!” Lord Steel and Brak strode through from the library.

 

“Hallo, my Lord!” Neal said, putting his bags down and hugging him.

 

“How did you enjoy your trip to Sunder?”

 

“It will hopefully be productive. I shall tell you when – if – it works to our advantage! But Jebb and I reached some sort of reconciliation, which is good.”

 

“And how did you manage that?”

 

“Dying, I think. He was pleased that by me dying we stopped the killing.”

 

“Ah. I am going to my study, Neal – you probably want to wash and put your things away, so shall I see you there?”

 

“Yes, Lord, there is something I have to tell you…”

 

“You sound as though you expect me to be annoyed? You have made peace with Jebb and started a war with Tallk and Lord Sunder?”

 

Neal smiled. “No. I will tell you when I join you, Lord.”

 

As they walked, and as Joster was about to break off to go to his quarters, he said, “Neal, why did you not tell him? He will be so pleased!”

 

“Yeah. I know.”

 

Joster watched Neal walk off, not looking delighted in any way to have such a lovely thing to tell the Lord, and shook his head, puzzled.

 

 

When Neal arrived at Steel’s study, Mozzie and Sally were already there, talking to Tammy and Diana. Little Theo was asleep in the bottom drawer of a metal filing cabinet that Mozzie had donated to the Steel filing system.

 

“Here he is!” Mozzie grinned.

 

“Either much wine has been imbibed, or everyone is in a good mood for other reasons!” Neal smiled.

 

“A little of both, with the exception of myself. It was a good day in many ways!” Steel waved Neal to a chair.

 

“I am hearing Theo more and more clearly!” Diana told Neal. “Not words, really, I don’t think – I just know what he wants.”

“Does that mean he is very strong, Diana?”

 

“The Chiri say so,” Tammy nodded.

 

“You said you had something to tell me, Neal,” Lord Steel said, as Mozzie gave him a glass of wine.

 

“I wonder why all the Earth wines are red or white – or rosé – yet here we have this lovely blue, and there was that bottle of aquamarine wine we shared when we first found the cellar,” Neal said to Mozzie.

 

“Not quite true…some of the wines on Earth only vaguely fall into red or white…I had a lovely greenish wine in South Africa once, though it was classified as white – it was closer to white than red!”

 

“What?” Neal asked, noticing that everyone was watching him.

 

“You’re deflecting, Neal, and badly,” Sally told him. “Probably you are tired.”

 

“Sal, you know, you are right. I really shouldn’t have come through – and I shouldn’t have had any wine! Mozzie – it’s yours!” Neal said, giving his glass to his friend. He moved easily into Sheel, “By your leave, my Lord, I shall sleep and perhaps if time permits, speak to you in the morning?”

 

“Of course, Neal,” Steel nodded.

 

 

But when Mozzie and Sally went through, Neal was not in his bed. Not that they minded the privacy, though with thick stone walls that was not a major concern. They ran the deep bath and shared the rest of the bottle of blue wine and then made love on piles of thick furs in front of the fireplace.

 

Mozzie was just drifting off to sleep when Sally rolled over to nuzzle his ear. “I love you, you know, heir to Steel Keep!” she said. Mozzie’s eyes flew open. His heart was beating faster than normal.

 

“You didn’t know?” Sally asked, grinning at him in the firelight, having felt his muscles react.

 

“I thought you did. We’ve spent a lot of time together since the wars.”

 

“For a while there I wasn’t sure if I could handle the whole alien-abduction, you liking your Lord, being made his son, heir to a huge stone castle on a distant planet. Not exactly a scenario I’d had in mind when I was a little girl!”

 

“You should see Betchem, if you think this is huge!”

 

“ _Deflecting!_ You shouldn’t have shown me your tool-box of tricks if you didn’t want me to recognise them!”

 

“Tool-box of tricks?” Mozzie enquired, innocently.

 

“Of _con_ tricks, Moz! Or did you think I was referring to something else?”

 

Mozzie chuckled.

 

“You really weren’t sure I loved you till right this minute?” Sally asked, kissing his ear.

 

“Stop that if you want any sensible conversation, Sally!”

Sally laughed and, reluctantly, stopped. She could always come back to that…one of _her_ little tricks! She cuddled up to his side.

 

“I haven’t heard that combination of words, that’s all. Ever, not from a woman, though I know June loves me, and Neal loves me and, for some reason, Steel loves me. Elizabeth is fond of me.”

 

Sally felt her heart break a little. She saw this wonderful, brilliant, kind, practical man with so much to offer. Yet he always felt less than adequate because he compared himself to Neal. At least for the last few decades. Not intellectually, but in many ways, he felt inferior.

 

Sally loved Neal. He was beautiful and special, could light up a whole parade with a single smile…but _moody!_ And often off after hare-brained ideas! Not centred, like Mozzie. Not self-sufficient, like Mozzie.

           Mozzie could always be counted upon to be there for her, for his friends. That was so unusual in her experience! He wasn’t only willing to be there, he had the money and smarts to help in almost any situation, too. She was sure if he was a pauper he’d still find a way to help! And his heart was pure…

 

She said, totally seriously, “Kept your heart for me, did you? I’m glad.”

 

“Did you mean that, about loving me?”

 

“I love you, I like you, I am in love with you, I want to make love to you – preferably rather often each week and every week for the rest of our lives.” Then her voice changed. “Oh – have you been toying with me, Haversham? Lured me in and captured every part of me only to pleasure yourself by breaking my heart?”

 

Mozzie rolled up on his side and gazed at her. Her eyes glowed back in the firelight. She leaned over and kissed his nose. “I know you’re not like that, I’m teasing. But – you do like me, don’t you?”

 

“You know I love you, Sallykins. It seems like I always have. And I always will. I can’t promise what will happen, but I can promise to try and make you happy and protect you always.”

 

“So we’re married, then?”

 

Mozzie tried to clear his throat and not burst into tears like a five-year-old. “Yeah, I guess we are.”

 

“Good!” Sally nodded decisively. “Now, Mozzie, how many years were we apart?”

 

A little startled, Mozzie started to work it out when Sally went on, “Because I think we have several _thousand_ love-makings to catch up on. So lie on your back, heir of Steel Keep and lend me your ear!”

 

 

 

Neal only caught up to Steel the next evening. Somehow they kept missing each other. Neal wasn’t at the first meal of the day and Steel was called away and missed the mid-day meal and joined the evening meal late.

 

Neal took out Lord Betchem’s letter from his inner pocket. He wondered why this all made him so uncomfortable, when stealing the dear lady (successfully) would have just made him feel excited and joyous.

 

He stood calmly.

 

“What do you have there, Neal?” Lord Steel asked.

 

“It is a letter for you from Lord Betchem, my Lord,” Neal told him.

 

“You avoided trouble at Sunder only to fall into it at Betchem?” Steel surmised, his eyebrows rising, a slight smile playing around his lips.

 

“No, my Lord. Here!” Neal handed the letter over, and Steel watched him for a moment before taking his dagger and breaking the seal.

 

He continued to watch Neal while he unfolded the pages, and asked, “Will you sit, Neal, or are you planning a quick escape?”

 

Neal sighed and sat. He consciously did not fidget. Fidgeting made the other party nervous and suspicious.

 

It took Steel only a moment to scan the short, beautifully worded note of gratitude. He stood up and advanced on Neal, a huge smile on his face.

         “Neal! You did it! She is ours!”

 

“Well, yes, she is, my Lord, but - !”

 

“I knew not how you were going to accomplish this, but you did!”

 

“It was an accident, a by-product – oof!” This as Steel pulled him up into his arms and hugged him.

 

“I wanted her here for all these decades, and somehow you convinced Lord Betchem to part with her!”

 

“Lord – Lord – a little air here…!”

 

“I am so pleased, Neal!” He released his son and Neal staggered. “Thank you! In what fashion can I reward you?”

 

“B-but my Lord – all I did was do something reckless and - ”

 

“The Lord of Betchem Keep calls it ‘brave’ and I concur! Are you brave enough – or reckless enough – to put yourself at odds with two powerful Lords – both with some empathy?”

 

“But- ”

 

“When June was protecting you – your body – Jones kept saying that and she had the perfect answer for him. I must remember to ask her what she said…”

 

“My Lord - !”

 

“I was sure I would remember, but we were all a little confused and sad. Something about a paddle…”

 

Neal just looked at him, and Steel gave him a quick hug. “Better, Neal! Now if I say, ‘thank you’, what do you say?”

 

“You are very welcome, my Lord.” Neal sighed gustily.

 

“I will write a pretty thank you to the Lord and Lady of Betchem, and I think it would be polite for you to add your own.”

 

“I will do that, my Lord.”

 

“Good! Aside from the joking, Neal, wait to have her here I truly can not!” He gave a little skip-step like a boy, and Neal couldn’t help grinning. “Thank you!”

Steel sat on his desk. “I was thinking, Neal, you and Mozzie have been so useful to this Keep, and have taken some of the work and planning off my shoulders. Yet you still sleep in the same suite you first had, and the one in which Mozzie joined you when he broke in to save you. What a brave friend!”

 

“He is, my Lord.”

 

“I feel that it is time you had you proper place here. You and Mozzie appropriated that suite you use as a studio. What if we actually made it yours, with furnishings you chose?”

 

Neal looked down, smiling a little. “I would have to ask Mozzie, but I am quite happy with the arrangement we have. And we have furniture, Lord!”

 

“Have you been into Ambreth’s suite?”

 

“No, my Lord.”

 

“Or Tallk’s?”

 

“No, Lord, but -”

        

“There is that word again! I must ask June - ”

 

“Lord, it is very kind of you…”

 

“The heirs do not have dusty rooms with aged furniture, Neal, I assure you!”

 

“I would be willing to wager that they have no ambience, no personality!” Neal argued, grinning a little.

 

“It does me no honour, Neal!”

 

“But Lord, we are often not here, but on Earth. We truly have no need of a fancy suite…”

 

“So why did you feel the need to take those rooms for yourselves?”

 

“We were slaves, Lord, and I wanted a studio, and it was nice to have somewhere that no-one knew of, all dusty and unkempt as it was.”

 

Steel groaned. “It is still dusty, Neal!”

 

“Not where we work! Except the wine bottles…Moz does like those to look 800 winters old!

“And we do not entertain guests from other Keeps, Lord, they are our friends from Earth and here…”

 

“Have you actually looked at the heir’s suites _here?”_

 

“When we made the map of the Keep, yes. I am assuming that was where you stayed before your father died?”

 

“Yes. There are two large suites there, interlinking. When Steel was built, twins were rather common here, so they wished to be prepared. I used one, the other has the bare essentials in it. They share a room with a long balcony – you could both use it as a studio and workroom.”

 

Neal hesitated and Steel threw up his hands. “Have it your way, Neal. The options are there if you want them.”

 

“Thank you, my Lord.”

 

 

 

Over the next tenday, Mozzie had the opportunity to know that Neal was around the Keep during the day, had gone back to lighting the fires, ‘doing his two’ horses, doing work in the kitchens. He was there for meals…but he disappeared, literally, after his evening shower.

 

Mozzie pondered. He knew he wasn’t an expert in dealing with people, and Neal had conned him often, because of that. Rushing off to find Kate: Mozzie remembered having no idea how to stop him! And look at how that had ended! Somehow he, Mozzie, had ended up stuck permanently in New York, even though _he_ hadn’t rushed off to find a girlfriend and gotten himself a handler and a leash; even when he’d craftily made the final, wonderful score they both were supposed to have wanted; even when Neal’s handler had proven himself a totally abusive controlling Storm Trooper amongst Storm Troopers (and worse-dressed!) The only thing that had forced Neal to escape New York and his personal evil Bureau bully was an invading army of Slaver Aliens!

 

_Otherwise we’d still all be right there, doing the same do-si-do around each other!_

_I am a failure when it comes to controlling Neal, influencing Neal – even when it is for his own good!_    He sighed.

 

He would have been aghast to know he was unconsciously repeating the oft-repeated thoughts of Neal’s ‘evil handler’, though their intentions were diametrically opposite! “Do I confront him? Ask him?”

 

Mozzie dithered – and Neal was almost the only person who could make him dither – for another five days. Then, late one night, he heard Neal talking in his bedroom. Sally was busy working with June on some autumn baking and preserving, so he was all alone – perfect! He tapped on the door and, on hearing Neal’s invitation, walked in.

 

Neal was sitting on the side of the bed communing with one of the energy-eating plants ‘planted’ in a beautiful glass container. Mozzie’s breath caught in horror.

 

“Hey, Moz!”

 

“Neal – what is that doing in here?” Mozzie tried not to show the level of his disquiet.

 

Neal grinned at him. “This, dear Mozzie, is a security system that certain persons, who gave away their intentions when I was weak and helpless – who shall remain nameless, dear Mozzie! – can not circumvent and thereby steal my bedroom!”

 

“Neal – can I talk to you outside?”

 

“Sit! We can talk!”

 

“I would rather not, Neal.”

 

“Steal your thoughts she can not, Moz.”

 

“So this is a ‘she’?”

 

“Mmm…she’s a she,” Neal murmured gently, in English, stroking his fingers up the outside of the flower. Mozzie could swear the flower was leaning into the caress, like a cat. A weird, alien, capable-of-killing, not-even-a-real-plant cat.

 

“So that’s where you’ve been going?” Mozzie demanded, also relinquishing Sheel. He didn’t know that many swear words in Sheel and he might have to resort to some! “Their planet?”

 

“Yes,” Neal answered dreamily. “It’s so beautiful there, especially when it’s dark.”

 

“They killed you, Neal!”

 

“Temporarily, Moz, it was just a reaction. They also saved me.”

 

“You have no understanding of their abilities and motives, Neal! They could be planning a takeover of their own! For that matter, we only have their word that the men were holding them hostage! What if they are better at conning than you are?”

 

“You really are paranoid, Moz…I can _feel_ them, Mozzie! I know them. It’s as though we are a part of one another…the whole of them, and me.

         “And you said exactly the same thing, almost word for word about Kate!”

 

“And you answered almost exactly the same thing, word for word, about Kate! And you came within seconds of being dead for the first time with _her!_ Apart from all the dreadful other consequences! _”_

 

“That’s not fair, Moz. Adler – well, forget it. I’m not trying to convince you. You can’t feel what I’m feeling.”

 

“Please, Neal - ?”

 

“Mozzie, for the first time ever, I can get a good night’s sleep. Either on their planet, just dreaming amongst them, or even with just this little one, here.” He touched the flower gently.

 

“You need their energy, their proximity?”

 

“Like someone with a cat, or a dog – they soothe me.”

 

“So you can take that – her – back and sleep here tonight without her?”

 

“I could! If I wanted to! But why? You have no idea how wonderful just the simple act of sleeping deeply can be!”

 

“Neal! Are you hearing yourself? That’s the plea of every single addict: I could give this up if I wanted to!

“ _Prove_ it!”

 

“Soon, Mozzie. You don’t have to worry. They’re quite safe and loving, you know. I’ll just catch up on all the sleep I’ve missed over the last few months. Then I’ll give up having one or two here.”

 

“I’m going back to Italy or New York. I’m not sleeping next to that thing!”

 

“Suit yourself! You have Sally, now – go and spend your nights with her! I can’t stop you, I can’t force you or convince you – and the difference between us is, I don’t want to try!”

 

Mozzie gave Neal a last, despairing glance and jumped. Neal might need that – thing – but he needed Sally’s warm arms and common sense tonight.

 

 

About seven mid-days later, Mozzie tapped on Neal’s door – he was pretty sure Neal was in the kitchen, but just in case – and looked in. Now there were four of the plants there. They had been resting, but now the flowers lifted and seemed to look at Mozzie. He didn’t know if he was imagining it, but they seemed to sense his antagonism. He felt an atavistic revulsion…these had killed his best, often his only friend!

_I may be paranoid, or unreasonable. They let us take them home and didn’t try anything with us. They haven’t put their claws in my brain! But we didn’t have an overdose, like Neal did!_

He looked at the plants and they apparently stared back. He said, trying to send thoughts and emotions through his words, “Please, let him alone! Please! He was intent on saving you – the rest of us would have killed you, and the evil men that held you captive! If you are not as evil as those men, you’ll tell him to leave you alone, to get on with his human life that you kindly gave back!”

 

The plants showed no sign they’d heard his words and he reversed out of the room and closed the door.

 

After that, for the next few ten-days, if Mozzie slept at Steel Keep, he slept on the little bed he and Neal had found and put in Neal’s studio. Usually he just jumped back to Earth, very thankful to have the ability. Neal did not seem to notice that Mozzie was never around much any more, never sat with a bottle of wine and expressed his interesting and often wildly improbable thoughts. But then, it had been Neal who had started backing off from the friendship.

 

They had experienced coldnesses, even quarrels before…when Mozzie had wanted to take the treasure and run, and Neal had found all the excuses to stay and have a ‘home’ in New York had been the last one.

 

_As if a ‘home’ ever comes with shackles?_

 

Mozzie knew of which he spoke! – he had been in a few foster homes. One ‘loving couple’, desperate to keep the income he brought them, had locked him in the basement every night. They didn’t know he knew what hydrochloric acid did to iron bars, didn’t know he could steal some from the local high-school labs with amazing ease…lucky it had just been hydrochloric! Lucky Moz had just wanted to escape and not level the house! He was seven and quite capable of it! Later he would learn finesse, but at the time a nice big _BOOM_ was well within his repertoire!

 

There were differences in _this_ difference of opinion, however. Neither of them had ever had another friend as strong, which fact drew them together before too much time had gone by. Now Mozzie had Sally and Tammy and Diana and Steel. Neal had a whole Keep of people – and even other Keeps with people who cared about him. And Steel.

 

Steel sent a messenger to Mozzie and asked him to come to his study the next morning. Mozzie appeared, and Steel waved him to a chair, and came from the back of the desk and sat in another.

 

“Mozzie, have you and Neal quarrelled?”

 

Mozzie automatically dodged the question. “Quarrelled, Caerrovon? Why would you think so?”

 

“Because I used to often see you together and if one of you came to my study, so too did the other. Now I hardly see Neal, unless I catch him setting fires in the evening, and I seem to see less of you – but never together except now and then at the kitchen table! Tell me! Can I help?”

 

Mozzie thought a moment. Much against his will he had ‘narc’ed on Neal to Peter when he thought Neal was thinking irrationally. It actually had been the right thing to do, Neal had been acting on poor information…and Steel wasn’t Peter. Mozzie trusted Steel more than perhaps any other human with the possible exception of Mr Jeffreys, June and Sally. He loved Neal more as a friend than anybody, but there were times he couldn’t be trusted. Mozzie sighed, sad to even think that!

 

“Do you know that Neal has been sleeping on the planet of the vampire plants?” Mozzie asked, quietly.

 

Steel reacted, just as Mozzie had, flinching. “No!”

 

“Yes. Now he has them in his room. I tried to talk to him, but listen he will not: says they help him sleep! They nearly helped him sleep forever, Caerrovon! He says they are good and trustworthy.

“I have not been sleeping in our suite because of that and not only does he not care, I do not think he has noticed. I do not want to tell stories out of school, Caerrovon, but I do not think this is healthy!”

 

Caerrovon sat, thinking. “Perhaps we are jumping to conclusions, Mozzie. Perhaps it is harmless.”

 

“I think not. He has always been a good friend – my only friend for more than a decade! - and now he notices not that I am not spending a minute with him in a tenday? Can we ask Lira, Caerrovon?”

 

“I hesitate to call her…they were so very preoccupied with the deaths, Mozzie. It is early, perhaps Neal is still in his room? Let us see if he responds to both of us.”

 

They went together to Neal’s room. Mozzie so hoped Neal wouldn’t think he was like Peter, trying to get him in trouble – Peter by showing their Lord the paintings hanging in Neal’s room, him by showing their Lord Neal’s ‘flowers’. This just seemed potentially so much more dangerous! To befriend a creature who could kill – and had killed, and trust them because for the moment they weren’t killing? Without understanding them at all?

 

As they got to the door, which stood a little open, they could hear Neal singing, his clear voice perfectly suited to the song. Mozzie, who knew it, shivered. It was so apropos! Steel, as he listened to his ear-bug translate, became more worried.

 

Neal was singing to his flowers:

 

“Windflowers  
“my father told me not to go near them  
“he feared them always  
“said they carried him away  
  
“Windflowers  
“I couldn't wait to touch them  
“to smell them  
“I held them closely  
“now I cannot break away  
  
“Their sweet bouquet disappears  
“like a vapor in the desert  
“take a warning son  
  
“Windflowers  
“their beauty captures every  
“young dreamer  
“who lingers near them  
“ancient windflowers I love you…”

 

Neal’s voice easily reached the lingering, soulful higher notes of the last word, plaintive, yearning…

Steel looked down at Mozzie, and they shared a worried frown. As silence fell, Steel knocked, and there was hasty movement in the room.

 

“Neal, it is I,” the Lord said. “Can we come in?”

 

“Yes, of course!” Neal said, but his voice was strained.

 

Steel pushed the door and smiled at his son, but Neal’s smile was hesitant, and blurred briefly on seeing Mozzie, who said, “Hallo, Neal.”

 

“We heard you singing,” Steel said. “It reminded me of you and June singing at the party. How wonderful that was! You sing too seldom, son!”

 

“My voice is not that wonderful, Lord! Did you – did you two – want something?”

 

Mozzie wondered if he imagined the emphasis on the word ‘two’, as though Neal resented him coming in to his room.

 

“We wanted to spend some time with you, Neal…it has been a long while since you came and sat by my feet by the firelight, or shared a bottle of wine with Moz while I drink tea!”

 

Neal frowned a little, trying to find words. “I – I – it has all been odd, since the incident with the plants, my Lord.”

 

“I understand. But I would like to just spend some time with my two sons, Neal – can you make it this evening?”

 

Neal nodded. “I will try, my Lord.”

 

“Neal, you did swear allegiance to me, did you not? You did accept a position as my son and heir?” Steel was smiling, but there was truly a metallic taste to his words.

 

“I did, my Lord,” Neal sat up straighter.

 

“Then the only appropriate response, Neal, is ‘yes, my Lord!’”

 

Neal frowned again, but nodded. “Yes, my Lord. I will see you this evening.”

 

“After the evening meal then, in my study.”

 

“Yes, Lord.”

 

 

Neal was not at the table for the evening meal. Mozzie and Steel glanced at each other, worried.

 

Whim and Tam brought trays to the study: two bottles of wine, tea, snacks.

 

Mozzie and Steel sat. Neal did not appear. “What now?” Steel asked. “Because right now I am very angry.”

 

“And I, Caerrovon, am very worried.”

 

Steel raised his eyebrows.

 

Mozzie went on, “Neal loves you.”

 

“He loves you, too.”

 

“Yes.” Steel noticed that Mozzie was not as sure of that as he could be. “But he _loves_ you. You have become someone he loves and trusts and obeys. He was a little like that with the stupid Suit.

“ He likes having someone he trusts – he thought he could, with Peter, his choices are improving – and whom he can lean on. He does not need it, he can live without it, but he enjoys it. For a while there, his choice of a …support… tore us apart. It was close. One or other of us would not have been your son. Probably that would have been me: I would have been lounging on some tropical island drinking coconut milk mixed with rum and white crème de cacao and wondering why the radios were all down while he was here on Brethsham.

         “I would have been poorer for it.”

 

Steel smiled at Mozzie, appreciating the candour. “Then what you are saying is…?”

 

“I have never seen Neal do this. He cares for people. Even total strangers, unless they are bad. He does not hurt those he loves; not intentionally.”

 

“In New York, he hurt you.”

 

“Yes. He did. He was torn between Peter and me. At one intersection, he chose Peter. Luckily I stuck around, I cared enough for Neal and cared not much for the Suit…I had, for a while, thought he might be different, and he was – just not enough. It was not even his ‘suitiness’ …” Mozzie sighed gustily. “I was there when Neal came down from his day-dream-cloud and saw that Peter-and-Elizabeth would only always be there for him if he played their game by their rules, and sometimes they were playing two different games and Neal was torn apart like a medieval torture execution. I was there. I know not what he would have done if been there I had not, Caerrovon. He has this very lonely place inside of him and has never really filled it. It scares me.

         “You understand – I am a survivor, always will be. Peter used to say that Neal was a survivor, but that is not true. Neal is usually two steps away from suicide. He sees every way out of a room, a building, a museum, a prison – a life. If there is no way out, he will find one.”

 

“But, as I understand it, he went to prison.” Steel’s heart went cold. He remembered Neal, a long time ago, in the same second dungeon where the flowers had taken his life, telling him that Peter thought he didn’t understand death, that Peter had no comprehension that it perhaps lured him…

 

“Yeah, that was Neal! I got it all out of the Suit, later – who was boasting to me! Me! He used Kate as bait, and it worked. I am not a violent man, generally, Caerrovon…

“Neal saw Kate and Kate kissed him, they kissed and whatever it meant to Kate, it meant forever-after-love to Neal! Not that he wanted to go to prison, he had no real idea of what prison would be like! – but it was very romantic to have found a girl after a long breach – and have her wait faithfully for him through the time he was shackled in the Cave of the Dragon, be there when he got out.

         “Be there she was not but, to give her credit, it was not her fault that she was not. And Neal took the deal with the Suit because prison just sucks, and because he was supposed to save his love from her own personal dragon and somehow, as Kate slipped away he started leaning on Peter. Peter did play him quite well.”

 

“In my opinion, on limited information, Peter does have a great fondness for Neal.”

 

“Yeah. Neal still thinks he did. See it for myself I do not!

         “Abusive: – love, then punish so he could soothe – then love – then punish so that he could soothe…typical abuser. Every time he punished it was the victim’s ‘fault’ – ‘you made me catch you, throw you in prison, hurt you, scream at you, tell you you’re a con and will never change, that I shouldn’t have trusted you, treat you like rubbish.’

_____“I have seen the pattern too often, when I spent some time, briefly, in foster care. Sometimes it is subtle. Peter started out quite subtle, earned Neal’s respect – he is smart, Peter, and Neal has been a victim before and falls naturally into the rôle – but as often happens, the predator needs more and more blood. Emotional blood in this case, he never beat Neal to a pulp physically. Been better if he had, I would have had him in court so fast - !

______“In sad fact, probably Neal would never have pressed charges, could never have because Peter had too much on him. And he’s a suit, he could have made up stuff and made it work against Neal. I would have found another way _long_ before, I assure you, Caerrovon, but I was concerned for Elizabeth. I only learned recently that she played Neal as well, not once but quite often.”

 

“Elizabeth?”

 

“Mmm. Knew I did not, Caerrovon, but I was surprised and pleased when Neal took your advice and confronted them. I heard all about it then. In a way it was worse that she did it, though she did it much less often. A victim often resents the non-abusive spouse that stands by and does nothing to stop the abuse more than the abuser, and when she joins in…!”

 

“What has this got to do with Neal now?”

 

“I am confused, Caerrovon, but he is acting as though he has lost you – or Peter, as he was, or Kate as she was. As though there is one way out of the tower, and that way is a jump from seventy man-heights.

         “He would always take it, Caerrovon. He always has a perfect exit route.”

 

“Are you sure?”

 

“Yes. Commit suicide by cop he did not because of Kate’s love. Commit suicide by Evil Slavers he did not because of June. But if he thought there was no-one…”

 

“But I still love him, so do you…?”

 

“Yes. I do not know his compulsions, this time.”

 

“He is not coming tonight.”

 

“No. I think he has gone to their planet.”

 

“The flowers?”

 

“Yes. It is like an addiction, truly, Lord. Perhaps that is why his actions are not fitting the pattern. He has never been addicted to anything like this before, just love…”

 

“But we can go and get him - ”

 

“Yes. But that would do us no good. How long are you going to keep him locked up when he can translate? Even take his clothes you can not – I am sure the flowers do not care if he is clothed!”

 

At that moment, there was a knock on the solid wooden door and they both startled and looked at each other, hoping it was Neal…?

 

“Enter!” Steel ordered and Tammy stuck her head in.

 

“Lord Steel, I – er – I need Mozzie!”

 

“Tammy! Is it about Neal?”

 

Tammy looked between them; her face clouded. “What is he doing?

         “No, it is not about Neal. It is about one your other friends. I was looking for Neal, but find him I can not!”

 

“May I, Caerrovon?” Mozzie asked permission, standing.

“Yes, of course, Mozzie – go. I shall sit here and worry about my other son!”

 

“We need to get him to talk!” Mozzie said, going out of the door. “He is hiding secrets!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 End of Chapter 25

If you can bring yourself to comment, I'd appreciate it! Know how busy everyone is!

 

 

 Song: Windflowers by Seals and Crofts (their best, to me!)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fcUGCj0Hb3E

 

 

 

 


	26. You Got Your Troubles, I Got Mine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mozzie and Sally need Neal to help an old frenemy. In doing so, Neal encounters a disappointed and angry Lord Steel and is given a choice.

 

 

 

As they left Steel’s study, Mozzie turned to Tammy. “What is it, Tammy! You would never interrupt Lord Steel if it was not important!”

 

“Sally called me, and I went. She was in England, in a small -flat? But it was more or less cuboid, Mozzie.”

 

Mozzie’s expression lightened despite his concern for Neal, and perhaps Sally, now! “Our languages are varied and from many roots, Tammy, and horribly difficult to learn! It is called a flat because it is a group of rooms on one level of a building – and therefore flat, no stairs within that group of rooms. The building houses – oh! – contains! – The building contains other flats also. The flat usually has an entrance within the building, and not to the street or garden. In the United States it would be called an apartment.”

 

Tammy blinked. “I will try and remember. I went there and she said she was looking for Neal - ”

 

“Take a number!” Mozzie muttered.

 

“ – but that you would do, she thought. She had seen a woman Neal knew, or used to know. She believes she needs help. So I came to find Neal and, since he seems to be absent from the Keep, you. I am sorry, but she seemed to think Neal would want to know.”

 

“A woman Neal knew…well, Tammy, dear, that opens up a large percentage of the population of the Earth! Perhaps I had better go and see Sally.”

 

“Do I need to accompany you, Moz?”

 

“No. If for some reason I need you, can I call?”

 

“Definitely. You know that. I shall be with Diana and Theo…and spent much time with him – or us – lately you have not!”

 

“I do apologise, Tam! And thank you.” She kissed his cheek and he smiled and jumped.

 

Sally was standing by the window and seemed unsettled. Sally was seldom bothered by anything. She had faced dangers and Mozzie sometimes thought she was of the same mind-set as he was – and Neal, too, for that matter. _We’re all going to die, no-one seems to have made it out alive, so no point in fearing it and no real reason to avoid it beyond sensible precautions._

 

 _Of course_ Mozzie thought, as he watched Sally look out over the streets of a rainy London, _there were rumours about the immortality of St Germaine. And also of Charlemagne, and other aliases before that one…crowned his son as though he knew he was going to ‘die’, buried in totally inclement weather – but was there really a body?_

_No reports of one…_

_Then he might have become Paul Mounet, born in France, becomes a doctor and then an actor…odd decisions! Doctors can say their medical abilities prolonged their life, but if all else fails, use grease paint and fake beards to hide their eternal youth. He specialised in playing royalty, probably type cast for those roles! And he is supposed to have died, but no body was ever found! –_

_\- and then, if that’s not enough, there’s Keanu **Charles** Reeves_… _keeps looking exactly the same, decade after decade and also an actor, and doing science fiction is **his**_ **_t_** _hing, very interesting – they could easily all be the same man, looking at photos... And Reeves played one of the best Hamlets ever…well, yeah, he knew it all from his **Mounet** days! Both played Romeo and Juliet, too!_

_But clones? Aliens? Immortals? Wonder if anyone tried taking their heads…? And the question becomes – Can there be Only One? At least no-one can say anyone else looks like me! I am unique – there is Only One Mozzie!_

“Mozzie!” Sal turned and saw him watching her. “I’m glad you’re here! I didn’t know what to do. I know you like to help, I’m sure this is a woman Neal knew.”

 

 _Or merely looks like someone Neal knew…! Stop it, Haversham!_ “But how do you know any of Neal’s many female friends, Sally?”

 

“I know with whom I work, Moz. This was the woman whose account started our first …let’s call it ‘job’ together! Someone in the protection racket they call insurance.”

 

“Sara? You saw Sara? Long-legged, even skinnier than Neal, nasty piece of work when I first knew about her - the stick up her ass had to be hardened steel just to be thinner than she was. Mind you, she became attracted to Neal, but they were more often on opposite sides than anything else…and then she softened towards Neal later on, but possibly because she was leaving the USA…oh! She’s here in _London?”_

 

“Yes.”

 

“You’re upset. Tell me what’s wrong.”

 

“I wasn’t sure it was Sara. This woman was badly hurt in the Alien attacks on London. She’s crippled, Mozzie.”

 

Mozzie stopped short. His face changed. “How badly…?”

 

Sally smiled a little at him. That façade of guarded and circumspect recluse – if not misanthrope! - hadn’t fooled her for a second! He and Neal shared that trait – always the sucker for the lame dog and the wet duck! Then she sobered. “Pretty badly. She’s in a wheelchair, and I think she’s completely broke, Mozzie – in every way.   

      “Can we help her?”

 

Mozzie thought a moment. “Did you speak to her?”

 

“I tried. She seemed out-of-it, some, but bitter. Hard. I think she’s on some kind of pain medication, perhaps other drugs. She wouldn’t talk to me. She – I’m not bad with faces, Moz, my memory isn’t like yours but pretty good. I hardly recognised her. Hell – it might not even be her!”

 

“I think if she’s like that it would be better to have Neal approach her. He puts people at ease. I’m more likely to frighten them off…habits, I guess.”

 

“Tammy couldn’t find him, I asked.”

 

“I know where he is, and I can go there,” Mozzie sighed. “I’m not sure he’ll come back with me. I’m not sure of anything with him at the moment. Can we see this woman you think might be Sara?”

“I’ll take you. It’s not far.”

 

“Take the brolly!” Mozzie chuckled. “It’s England, and the drought has broken…again!”

 

Sally took him to one of the shelters set up by various charities for displaced persons after the wars. Mozzie took out a spy-glass of some vintage and stared through the window. Several groups of men were playing cards or drinking beer and talking, women looked after children and talked or knitted or mended. Most people were engaged, talking, laughing, even though they wore old and sometimes ragged clothes.

 

This woman sat in her wheelchair as far from everyone as possible. Her once beautiful fair hair was straw-like and greyish. Her back appeared damaged, for she didn’t sit straight in the chair. There was burn-scars like melted wax down the one side of her face, and she sat so her hair hid that as much as possible. She positively radiated resentment.

 

“It’s Sara. Pretty sure,” Mozzie nodded. “The bones are still there…look, we were always guarded with each other. Neal – well, you know Neal, even though she testified at his trial and tried to have him thrown in Alcatraz for a dozen lifetimes, he wore her down with his charm and smiles…”

 

“And great arse,” Sally added, innocently.

 

“Probably that, too, though I can’t think how you know about _that_.”

 

“Well-fitting trousers, good eye-sight, very good memory.” Sally grinned at him.

 

“Yeah, well, whatever he did, she responded. If anyone can get through, he can.”

 

“And if you can’t find him? What about family.”

 

“Some confusion. She was supposed to be all alone in the world, then there were rumours of a sister…? Certainly never saw her with anyone, no private letters, no private emails other than from Neal and Peter, and the latter were usually about a case, and now and then from Elizabeth.” Sally just looked at him.

“What!” he demanded. “I’m not the world’s best hacker, she’s standing right next to me! – but I can do surveillance 101, you know! Again, needed to know who was getting involved with Neal.”

 

“So if you can’t find Neal, can you approach her?”

 

“I’ll go and get Neal, if I have to drug the man!”

 

Mozzie jumped Sally back to the flat she was using, and stood, steeling himself for this jump. Not wanting to worry Sally by hesitating, he closed his eyes, thought of his Neal and jumped. Would the flowers kill him?

 

He landed at Neal’s feet. Neal was sleeping, curled on his side, his head resting on his arm. Mozzie looked up and Neal was right – it was quite gorgeous. Something like the sparkle of diamonds, something like morning sun refracting from a trillion dewdrops, something like multi-coloured fireflies winking in and out. They gave enough light to see, though certainly not to read.

 

“Neal!” Mozzie hissed. “Neal! Wake up!”

 

Neal breathed deeply, but didn’t stir. Getting itchy feelings as the flowers turned to him, Mozzie kicked Neal’s feet gently, and then not quite so gently.

 

“Hmmph?” Neal murmured and opened his eyes. _“Mozzie!_ Go away – I’m sleeping.”

 

“No, you’re talking and waking up!”

 

“You really can’t run my life – didn’t you tell me not to let Peter do that, and here _you_ are?”

 

“I’m not Peter!” Mozzie huffed, wondering if he was being quite truthful. “I didn’t even come to get you before, I knew where you were! But I need your help – or someone else needs your help.”

 

“Oh, of all the weak stories I’ve ever heard! That one sounds like a - ”

 

 _“Sara_ needs your help!”

 

“What?” Neal uncurled and half-sat.

 

“Sara? Remember her? If she was a plant she’d be a blonde reed-mace? Well, not any more…broken reed. Very philosophical and all that, but she needs you and you’re lying here like – like dying Hyakinthos being transformed into a flower.”

 

“Transformed by his gorgeous lover, Apollo, played by you in this scene, I take it?” Neal stood up and stretched, touching the nearest flowers as he did so with gentle fingertips.

 

“I could! I have been known to be oracular, I dabble in medicine of the natural-and-without-side-effects sort – and his symbol is a lyre! I think I amply qualify!”

 

Neal turned and saw Mozzie’s impish grin and smiled back. “You might at that! I’m a little half-asleep still! Can you take me?”

 

“Oh, the come-backs…but no time! - here!” Mozzie grabbed Neal’s wrist and jumped him to Sally. They explained, while Neal drank a large glass of water and spent a bit of time cleaning up.

 

Feeling more himself, Neal asked, “What time is it, here?”

 

“About eight-thirty,” Sally told him, “we should be able to go and speak to her. She wouldn’t speak to me.”

 

“And though you started out as antagonists, Neal, you ended up offering her marriage on top of the Empire State Building, so…”

 

“That was part of a disastrous con!” Neal scowled, remembering Pratt and Calloway, his father and Peter and all the mess!

 

“It was a brilliant con, Neal – some of the people involved were crazy. Most of them. Don’t forget our part worked perfectly, especially considering all those working against us!”

 

“And Neal, women, most women, like being asked questions like that,” Sally said. She turned to Mozzie. “No, not me! Don’t even think of it!”

 

“Not going to marry, Sally?” Neal asked, vaguely.

 

“Already married.”

 

“Oh!” Neal looked at her and at Mozzie, concerned. “You leading my friend on?”

 

“As much as I can!” Sally twinkled wickedly, and Mozzie smiled, his rare dimples showing.

 

“If he’s all right with it, who am I to argue…okay! Take me to Sara.”

 

Sally and Mozzie stayed by the big glass doors of the room while Neal walked towards Sara, horrified by what he saw. She was always so strong, so successful, so in charge. Actually, for him, too much so! With a different upbringing, he’d always thought she’d have made a supreme dominatrix. Probably would have pulled in more money than she had in insurance, too! Now she was, as Mozzie and Sally had said, broken. What would that do to someone like Sara?

 

Neal went over, and all the pity and sympathy washed from his face and his voice, leaving only interest and pleasure. “Sara! It _is_ you! With the rain on the window, I wasn’t sure! It’s me – Neal! Bet you didn’t think to see me in London!”

 

The woman in the wheelchair turned to him slowly, as though every movement hurt. He knew it was Sara, and took her hand. She seemed to have difficulty focussing, and then said, her voice a harsh croak, “Neal?”

 

“Yes, it’s me! Right here in Merrie Olde England!”

 

She struggled to pull her hand away. “Go away!”

 

“Oh, no you don’t! You promised to marry me, remember? There were witnesses.”

 

Tears formed and, without sound and without a change of expression, they welled and spilled down her cheeks.

 

“You can cry all you like about it,” Neal joked, “but a promise is a promise…and I had to come a long way to find you!”

 

She suddenly gave a scoffing laugh, and Neal stood, leaned over her and hugged her. She whispered, “I don’t want you to see me like this!”

 

“I don’t know why people say that, because usually I’m already seeing them like this! Sara, would you like to be well and whole again?”

 

“Oh, you went to China and stole Aladdin’s magic lamp, or to Middle Earth and stole Gandalf’s staff or - ”

 

“I went a lot further, let me tell you! Come, Mozzie’s here with Sally.”

 

“Sally?”

 

“Um, you may remember her as the Vulture?”

 

“Oh, that Sally.”

 

“Come for a drink with us.”

 

“Local pub isn’t very wheel-chair or pauper friendly.”

 

“How many times do we have to tell people, money is _never_ the problem! And we’re taking you to Sally’s friend’s flat.”

 

“Same old Caffrey!”

 

“Improved model!” he went round her, pulled off the brake of her wheelchair and started pushing her.

 

“Mmm - could do with improving, as I recall! Perhaps scrapping and rebuilding.”

 

“Come on, give it up, why don’t you? – you got your silly painting back!”

 

“The 50-million-dollar Old Master painting that you needed me to take and pretend you hadn’t stolen and lie a lot to save your pretty ass?”

 

They reached Sally and Mozzie as she said this and Sally said to Mozzie, “I told you so!” and Mozzie did an eye-roll worthy of Peter.

 

They pushed Sara’s wheelchair in silence, listening to the swish of the odd car-tyres on the wet tarmac. The block of flats had an elevator, so it wasn’t hard to get Sara up into the flat belonging to one of Sally’s friends (who was away in the Lake District for a week). They opened a beer for her, and she struggled to hold it.

 

“Hang on,” Neal said, and gently poured half into another glass so that it would be lighter for her.

 

“Thanks!” she said, gruffly.

 

“Well, to use a cliché, you’ve been in the wars, luv!” Sally said, sitting down on a low ottoman so she could look into Sara’s eyes.

 

“You noticed,” Sara replied, with difficulty. “What happened to all of you?”

 

The others glanced at each other. It was such a common question, especially earlier, when they had first returned to Earth. Everyone’s lives seemed faded and dream-like ‘before’ the wars. Everyone dated things from them. It was less so for Moz and Neal and the others – they had continued with all the White Collar division friends, and though they were slaves on another planet, it hadn’t seemed nearly as bad for them as for those on Earth! Of course, they had ended up with Steel!

 

“Sara,” Neal said, kneeling down in front of her, “I know you can keep a secret…”

 

She smiled painfully, and managed, “Oh, I get it, Caffrey, you stole an alien space ship and sold it for immense profit to the Russian government for the technology and I’m supposed to keep it quiet.”

 

“Like the stuff at Area 51!” Mozzie said, excitedly, pointing with both hands at Sara.

 

“Joking,” Sara said.

 

“I’m not – and you wouldn’t be either, if you knew what I know!” Moz pouted.

 

“Mozzie, please?” Neal asked. “Sara, we’d rather no-one outside of our group know this, okay? Can you agree to that?”

 

She nodded wearily.

 

“Look, we were some of the people who got abducted and taken to another planet and sold as slaves.”

 

“Sure. Each had an alien-hybrid baby,” Sara nodded. Her sarcasm could have peeled paint.

 

Neal lifted a warning finger at Mozzie, who was itching to jump into the conversation. “Sara, please don’t fight me, it’s true!”

 

“We always fought, and you always said things were true…like _not_ having George and the Dragon!”

 

“Well, I didn’t have it,” Neal hedged, “exactly. Come on – we were slaves on another planet, but the Lord was really nice. Truly, Sara.”

 

“It’s true, Sara,” Mozzie said.

 

“It is!” Sally agreed.

 

“Great, a consensus from a quorum of criminals!” Sara managed a stiff smile, the scarring making it difficult for her.

 

“I can actually prove it to you, but I don’t want to scare you,” Neal said, getting a little desperate.

 

“Scare me? You think there’s much that can scare _me_ , Caffrey?”

 

“I think that when someone’s gone through trauma such as yours,” Neal said, sympathetically, “you may scare more easily, you’ve seen the horrors before. And I want to help you, I want to have you healed and I know how to do it.”

 

“We could anaesthetize her,” Mozzie said, helpfully.

 

“No date-rape drugs, Moz,” Sara said. “Even with you!”

 

“It might be kinder to do that, since you’ve seen only the _worst_ of the aliens,” Sally agreed. “And he’s mine, Sara!”

 

“Hmm…good choice, Sally,” Sara said, her voice seeming to tire, “of the two. I should probably go home now.”

 

“Hey!” Neal protested. Then he thought and added, “You’re right, Sara! Sorry, just reacted. He _is_ the good choice!

..........“Look, would you like to be well again, healed and whole and feeling good?”

 

Sara glared at him. “Enough’s enough. Joke’s over, Neal. You think that’s - ” she struggled with a coughing fit and started to move her chair, “ – funny? Because it really isn’t.”

 

“I’m sorry, Sara, but I’m going to have to kidnap you – just for a very short while. I promise, I am doing this to help you and no-one will hurt you! Promise!”

 

“You can’t. Stop! I won’t let you!”

 

“Dear one, you can’t stop me – and you can hit me afterwards with your horrible stick, is that a deal?”

 

“Neal!” Sara tried to protest, her fingers curled into claws but there was nothing she could do. Mozzie and Sally jumped first, calling out to Lira and Kitran. Neal got a good strong hold on Sara, who was dreadfully thin and frail, and said, “Close your eyes. We’re going to the Castle Keep of my adopted alien father, Lord Steel, who will love you, but more important, there are beings there that can heal and I think will be able to heal you.”

 

“I’m not closing my eyes anywhere near you, Caffrey! Where’s my purse? Put me down!” Sara demanded, and Neal sighed and said, “Okay, don’t say I didn’t tell you everything!” and jumped.

 

He felt Sara’s muscles jerk in shock as he landed in the Greatroom. He gently laid her on his favourite leather couch in front of the fire. He looked around, trying to see it as for the first time. To him, it was now home, but though many facets were very like their Earthly counterparts, everything was alien: the lights, the floor, the way the leather was stitched, the clothing…

 

…and then there was Lira!

 

“Oh, Lira, **_thank you!”_** Neal said. “I’m sorry to call on you so soon after all the mess I caused. This is Sara, and she was hurt when the other aliens attacked Earth.”

 

“You drugged me!” Sara said indignantly to Mozzie. “This is an hallucination!”

 

“I could have – but I didn’t!” Moz said to her.

 

“Neal, Mozzie – Sally – what - ”

 

“And this is Lord Steel, my father, Sara!” He put his arm around Steel’s waist and Sara blinked. “Oh! Has someone…can I borrow your ear-bug, Sal?” Sal, making faces at him, gave him her ear-bug and he gently put it in Sara’s ear.

 

“Greetings and welcome to Steel,” the Lord said politely to Sara, and she flinched again, hearing the translation in her ear.

 

“This is the most elaborate con you’ve ever pulled, Caffrey, and the stupidest. I have nothing you want and can do nothing for you!”

 

“It isn’t, because we – or Lira! – can do something for you!” Mozzie said. “Bad enough, Neal, when we _are_ running a con, but when we’re trying to do something good and still the Bounty-Hunter-Suit suspects us!”

 

Lira drifted over to Sara and Sara just looked at her, obviously trying to work out how the ‘make-up’ was done, how the ‘hair’ was animated!

 

         “Sweet little sister, be at peace. Lie back. Your friends love you and care for you. I shall sing and you will feel better.”

Sara was finding it difficult to half-sit anyway, and she lay back with something resembling a groan of pain.

 

Diana and Tammy, having heard the call but delayed by giving Theo to Ophera, came in and Diana said, in shock, “Sara!”

 

“How did Caffrey get _you_ to agree to this charade, Diana?” Sara asked, wearily.

 

Lira started to sing and Sara’s eyes closed. Her whole body, that had looked stiff and racked with pain softened and sank into the couch.

 

“That never ceases to amaze me!” Mozzie said. Sally was watching, her eyes huge.

 

“I remember when I was in such pain and then, suddenly, I wasn’t,” Diana said, dreamily. “I can never thank you all enough!” She went and hugged Steel, since Lira was busy. He smiled down at her dark head and hugged back.

 

“I think Lira sing to this woman for a long while, and then she will sleep for the whole night through,” the Lord said. “It is late.”

 

“It is a miracle, is it not, Caerrovon?” Mozzie asked, watching Sara rest, totally at peace.

 

“I have often asked Lira what we can do in return for all the help they unstintingly give us, and she always tells me that the results are reward enough.”

 

“We are going to get some sleep, Lord Steel,” Diana said. “We should be able to help Sara come to terms with her new health tomorrow!”

 

“Sally and I will come and have a look at Theo and then also go to bed,” Mozzie said, and Neal’s eye-brows lifted amused at his friends.

 

“I think bed is a good idea, all of you,” Steel said, and as they turned away he added, “Not you, Neal.”

 

Neal turned to him, schooling his expression. “My Lord?”

 

“My study, Neal…a little late, to be sure, but better late than never, I have heard Peter say.”

 

“I – I fell asleep, Lord.”

 

“Study, Neal.” Despite the almost conversational tone, Neal had no doubt it was an order.

 

“Yes, my Lord.” He ducked his head.

 

They went in and there were trays with snacks and bottles of wine and glasses. The tea had been drunk, but otherwise it was all untouched. Steel came in behind him and closed the door. Neal glanced up at him and then down. “I – I am sorry, Lord.”

 

“No. You chose to go to the planet of the flowers. You chose not to come here, though you had agreed to do so. You are sorry that I am angry, perhaps. You are not sorry that you disobeyed me.”

 

Neal struggled a little and then said, “That is not completely true, Lord. I – I know you and Mozzie do not understand…”

 

“You can choose to tell us.”

 

“I would if I knew how. Partly it is because I can sleep. On their planet, with them – I worry not about anything. I can just sleep. I - I feel safe there. I know it seems nonsense to Mozzie...but it seems a way out.”

 

“Mozzie thinks it is an addiction.”

 

“To the plants?” Neal looked up, quickly. “To sleeping, perhaps. I can sleep there.”

 

There was an uneasy silence. Steel asked, “Are you still…infected by the plants? Is this the reason for your irrational behaviour?”

 

“Irrational…I thought not that I was being…” Neal stopped. _He_ didn't understand what he was feeling!

 

“Do the plants have a hold on you of some sort, Neal?”

 

“No! Of course not!”

 

“So this behaviour that angers me, it is entirely your choice?”

 

Neal was a professional con far too long not to see the trap. “I did not think I was angering you, my Lord.”

 

“You disobeyed me, Neal…not a suggestion, but a direct order to which you acceded.

.........“You are here sometimes, but you never spend time with me – or Mozzie – or anyone. You do the work, but you are not really here. I have asked some of the others...you seem more and more detached, indifferent. Then I found that you were sleeping on the planet of the plants.”

 

“Mozzie told you.”

 

“Yes. He is very worried about you. He thinks you are not acting in a way he has seen you act before.”

 

“There is nothing wrong with me! Mozzie has no right - ”

 

“If you thought Mozzie was sick, you would not come to me with your concern?”

 

“Well – yes, of course.”

 

“So do not think to blame Mozzie, who has always been a good friend to you. If there is nothing wrong with you, then it is your choice alone to act the way you have.”

 

Neal said nothing. His natural human instincts were picking up Steel’s emotion. As though he was answering him, Steel said, “I have had to learn to control my feelings to a large degree. Yet you need to know that I am very angry and disappointed. You avoid your family, but spend time with the plants that killed you. You leave them for this woman – I have no problem that you wished to help her – but you would not leave them for me, or Mozzie.”

 

Neal looked up. “I – I love you, Lord Steel. I do. Why I have been feeling the way I have I can not say.”

 

“You do not obey me, Neal, therefore I feel you do not trust me or love me.”

 

“Surely they do not go together…I did not always obey Peter - ”

 

“Do not compare me to _Peter!_ Have I ever done anything that was not in your best interests? Have I ever lied to you? Have I ever kept vital secrets from you?” Neal was very aware of the wrath in his Lord’s voice now. His own breathing-rate, which he had been able to modulate, increased.

 

“No, my Lord, not to my knowledge.”

 

“You have no reason not to trust me. I have been fair and just with you…perhaps far too lenient!” The Lord sat on the desk and looked down. Neal could see him take control and quiet his emotions. “My father would have said I had been foolishly permissive, and even Brak thinks I am too soft on you…yet I thought you were responding to being trusted and treated as a grown man. Perhaps I was wrong.

........“If I ask you to do something, if I order you to do something then, if you trusted me, you would do it, even if you did not understand. Or you would question me, ask me to reconsider. If you disobey me, it is because you do not trust me.”

 

“I _do_ , Lord!”

 

“I think you need to take some time away from here. If you can not act as my son, and we start to distrust each the other, there is no point in you being here. Then you can go and sleep on the plant’s planet every night and I will not know, I will not care.”

 

Neal went white. “You are banishing me?”

 

“No, Neal. I told you I love you and I always will love you. And perhaps later, if you choose to return, you will return as Peter, El, or even Diana does…as a loved friend.”

 

“But then you _are_ banishing me! Worse! You are _disavowing_ me!” Neal’s voice broke.

 

“No, Neal, I am not.” Steel stood up and came closer, but did not touch him. “You have chosen to act against the many oaths you took. I do not want to hold you to them if they mean so little to you.

............“I need you to stop and think.  

        “I hoped you would be able to give me your motive for breaking your promises. I was willing to give you another chance. But you have not explained. 

       “It is a great honour to be an heir to a Keep, but a great responsibility and is hard work. I know. I was perhaps unfair, offering this all to you when I knew you so desperately needed to belong.

..........“I think you need time to choose. We can be friends without all the oaths and promises, you know. We can just be friends.”

 

Neal stood up straight and sighed. “You were right. Sorry to let you down I was not, Lord. I reacted selfishly. And perhaps rebelliously, merely because you asked, and I know Mozzie was involved and we were arguing. I want to be your son, Lord Steel.”

 

“Do not speak hastily, Neal. Take some time. Spend some time with this Sara. You need to be very sure, Neal.”

 

“I have always been sure of that, my Lord! I was confused and… scared…or something, perhaps, about dying. I _feel_ disconnected at the moment. But I never wanted to retract my vow of allegiance.”

 

“Listen to me, Neal. You can not be my son in part.”

 

Neal felt his shoulders stiffen, and glanced up at Steel. “You mean…you…I disobeyed you.”

 

“Yes, indeed you did. You have before, but before you were not my son, and you were far newer to our way of life.”

 

“I did not think this…request was very serious, my Lord, to join you and Mozzie in the study.”

 

“You have no way of telling, Neal, do you, unless you attend? I sometimes need soldiers or slaves to react instantly when I give an order. I cannot wonder if they will obey! Far more so with my sons. You could have given me a reason you could not come this evening, but instead you agreed to join us here, Neal. Then you did not.”

 

“You,” Neal cleared his throat, “you are going to punish me.”

 

“I have less high expectations of friends, Neal. I do not order Diana or Peter, though by law they are still my slaves in that I have never formally emancipated them. I might issue orders, I suppose, in an emergency. You have not been my slave for a long while now. If you choose to merely come and visit as a friend, well - ”

 

Neal lifted his chin. “That is nonsense, and if your father was alive he would tell you so, I am positive. You are the Lord of the Keep and whether I am friend or slave or son, you have every right to expect me to obey your orders, Lord, and punish me if I do not. Brak would agree.”

 

Steel grinned a little. “I do not order friends, unless in an emergency, as I said. If they went against my wishes within my Keep too often we would cease to be friends, and they would leave.         

.........“Neal, go, look after your friend. You have been through a great deal and perhaps I am expecting you to rebound from it too quickly. Tell me in a tenday what your decision is.”

 

“Lord, I do not need to- !”

 

“Neal! I would rather not punish you! I see your goodness of heart, still helping people. I should probably not have offered to take you on as my son because of the rigidity of our society. Trust me, you would not wish to endure a punishment at my hand. I think you misjudge how severe I would be, even if I treated you as a child. You are not a -” here the Lord used a word Neal didn’t know, and the ear-bug supplied ‘toddler’, “- and you should know better!”

 

“I should have known better, my Lord, when I disobeyed you. And I was less than respectful, also, even when you asked.”

 

Lord Steel looked at the young man standing in front of him. He was trying very hard to give Neal a chance to change his mind. Even to explain! He extended his empathy and asked, “This has never been a problem before, Neal. You disobeyed me before when I asked you to come and see me because you were scared of me. Mozzie explained that. Otherwise, in all our time together you have been surprisingly good at fitting into my household and my family, considering the leniency of the society from which you came.”

 

Neal smiled a little. “That lenient society put me in a small cage for four of our years - four-seasons- my Lord.”

 

“See the value of that I can not. Perhaps with a sick man who kills, to keep him apart from his victims…I understand you do not have healers as we have the Chiri.”

 

“The rich of the world were my victims, Lord,” Neal looked sideways at him, apologetically. “As many of them as I found time to reach!”

 

“I think caging you would be terribly cruel. From what Diana said, your society used to use far more corporal punishment but gave it up because _that_ was thought to be cruel.”

 

“Disobeying someone – unless in the military – would not be considered a crime. That would result in imprisonment and hard labour.

...........“Well, yes, I suppose a child disobeying a parent, and then some people isolate the child – put them in a room, or in a corner of a room. Some people, especially after the wars, have reverted to spanking their children.   

          “Disobeying a monarch would be considered a crime – treason, in fact. Punishable by death. We do not have a king or queen in our country.”

 

“Your planet seems to have a vast range of punishments for disobeying an order!”

 

Neal managed a laugh. “Children are treated very permissively by some!”

 

“Were you?”

 

The room went very quiet. Steel tried to read Neal, and found him extremely unsettled. “What!”

 

“I was never spanked, my Lord.”

 

“What - **_never?_** ”

 

Neal shook his head, amused by his Lord’s reaction. Then his expression altered, became set and stiff. “I was sometimes in situations, as a child, where I was beaten. Not like a child is beaten. With fists or other solid objects.”

 

“You were punished by grown…men…using their fists on you?”

 

“He said he was punishing me. It was not when I had done something wrong. I used to think it was, that it was my fault, though I was puzzled as to what it had been. I was told it was my fault. Mozzie spent a long time, later on, asking me about this happening and that. He made me realise that bad and evil I was not. That they were using me to feel better about themselves.” Neal’s voice was strangely flat and devoid of emotion.

 

Steel remembered Mozzie saying that Neal had been a victim before Peter and had fallen easily into that role.

 

“I am sorry you endured that, Neal, and even more urge you to rethink your place here.”

 

“You were obviously punished a great deal, Lord, from your reaction!” Neal pointed out, coming back from the past.

 

“I was punished, for mistakes or mischief that I had done. Sometimes I felt my father was lacking in sympathy or understanding, but I was never beaten for nothing, Neal, let alone punched by an adult! That is a horrible thought!

.........“I sometimes wished my father had more of a sense of humour, or that he could understand my joy in trying to stand upright on a galloping horse, or going fishing even when I was supposed to be studying – but I could never say my punishment came as a surprise! I was perhaps foolish in thinking I could ever get away with anything, considering the number of people watching me – but usually it was worth the price! At least in distant retrospect!”

 

Neal grinned up at him, trying not to show his apprehension. “I do love you and if you punish me – even severely – it is because I have done something wrong.”

 

“Neal - ”

 

“You are saying I should back out of my oath to you because I face being punished as you obviously were, and often. I would revoke my allegiance if you did something truly terrible, but you have been nothing but kind and understanding and yes, permissive. I would like to look after Sara, take her back home and get her settled, but I shall return and still be your son, no matter the consequences.”

 

“And the plants?”

 

“I can not see the problem, Lord, but if you insist, I shall stay here and not sleep on their planet.”

 

“I think we should ask Lira. Perhaps Mozzie and I are over-reacting because we lost you, and, though it may come as a surprise to you, that was extremely sorrowful for the Keep.”

 

“Let us ask Lira, and I will abide by her decision, my Lord. And – please, please stop calling me Neal, when normally you would call me your son? I am sure that nothing you could ever do to me would cause me to stop wishing to be your son.”

 

Steel’s face softened and he hugged Neal. “You surprise me still – my son. We will talk again after your friend’s life is put in order. 

             “But for now you can clean up all this,” he waved his hand at the trays, “and make sure you apologise profusely to the people who made it and brought it.”

 

Neal left Steel’s study eventually and made his way to his suite. He found he was far more shaken by the conversation than he would have liked! His Lord could have beaten him right then and there…

 

Though he wasn’t a coward, Neal didn’t like pain of any sort. It was one of the reasons he was a criminal, something Peter could never comprehend! Being a criminal, to Neal, meant freedom, and choices and being able to leave people when they let him down, as so many people had. Only Mozzie had stuck around. Only Mozzie had, before June and Steel, proved trustworthy.

 Being a criminal meant no paperwork, no boring work-week, no bosses (though Mozzie had been his mentor for some of those years and certainly had laid down a few rules. He’d stayed, knowing that what Mozzie had to teach was priceless, worth the restrictions – but he _could_ have left!)

 

Life, to Neal, was bad enough even if one did everything in one’s power to avoid pain and embrace learning and enjoyment! People still managed to hurt you – but not for long! Not a criminal with no fixed abode and no visible means of support! A moving target…until the anklet. Prison had merely been something to be endured and seemed almost to have happened to someone else, and long ago. The anklet had promised so much and delivered so little. He found he resented the memory of the anklet.

Now, somehow, he had several homes, but this one – this one had Steel. And Mozzie, who wandered around with him. But it looked as though he’d misjudged, or his confused emotions had caused him to do so. Steel was seriously displeased and, well, it looked as though his avoidance of pain on this planet might just be about to come to an end!

 He opened the door to the suite and heard Mozzie say, “Be right back, love,” and Moz came from in front of the communal fireplace and walked with him into his bedroom. There were no flowers there – he’d taken them back to be with their clans when he went to sleep there. Neal groaned inwardly. He didn’t want to talk to Mozzie! He felt embarrassed and ashamed to think he was to be beaten like a child for his poor behaviour.

 

“You okay?”

 

“Yeah, Moz, why?”

 

“So many reasons! But right now – Caerrovon is very annoyed with you.”

 

“Yeah. He made that abundantly plain.”

 

“Why are you acting this way, Neal? Don’t brush me off! You’re going to land in serious trouble with our father if you don’t stop!”

 

“Too late! He actually told me to consider not being his son any more.”

 

Mozzie stared at him. He knew how much this family meant to Neal…more than it did to _him!_ Neal had never given up hope, through all the cons and Feds and disastrous relationships, of finding a family. Mozzie could live alone and be – okay. Not that he didn’t love Neal and Sally and Steel, Diana and Tammy and Theo…and June! – but he’d realised how dangerous ‘needing’ anything could be when he was about five. If he had to, he’d walk away from everyone and everything right now. He’d regret it, but he’d do it.

 

Not Neal! Neal talked a good game, but had got stuck with people, cared too much or hoped too much - often to his detriment – Adler, Kate, Peter and Elizabeth…now Steel.

 

“He can’t do that to you just because you’re acting weird! You died! And yes, you go and sleep on the beautiful – and you were right, it is, Neal! – plants’ Transylvania – which is a cross between transfusion and trees, when you think about it! – but - ”

 

“I disobeyed him.”

 

Mozzie looked down. “Yeah. He was very angry when you didn’t show, mon frère.”

 

“You can’t protect me from him, Mozzie.”

 

“I can!”

 

Neal chuckled. “Heaven knows what you’d think up to do it! Okay, I know you can, Moz, but he’s right. I put myself in the wrong and he’s holding me to a higher standard, believe it or not – _me.”_

 

“That always spells trouble! What’s he going to do?”

 

“Well, I have a stay so I can get Sara settled, make sure she’s got a home and has found her feet, and then – well, remember what I said you looked like when I came home drunk, what you looked like you’d do to me? Worse than Lord Betchem if I stole the painting?”

 

“I remember.”

 

“Worse, Mozzie – possibly a lot worse.”

 

“In return for being his son?”

 

“Something like that.”

 

“Yeah, I guess that’s how families work. You okay with that?”

 

“Wouldn’t still be here if I wasn’t. He gave me plenty of ‘outs’ – go and come back as just a friend, that sort of thing.”

 

“You could do that!”

 

“Mozzie…I know you, and you know me. You run, I run…remember? As long as you want me, I’m your brother. Little stupid, sometimes, sometimes mean little brother, but always. Always have been – long before Steel.”

 

“Didn’t feel like that about you at first. But soon after, yes.” Mozzie realised that it was true. It _would_ take a lot to make him leave Neal, Sally, Steel…he’d stayed in New York long after a normal alias expiry date - because of Neal! _Wonder if that was the right thing to do?_ _Too late now, I guess!_

 

“And now I feel like that – almost as strong a bond as with you – about Steel. If you’d beaten me for coming in drunk, I would have let you, I would have stayed.”

 

“That’s not the same!” Mozzie huffed.

 

“Why not, exactly?”

 

“I was teaching you how to reproduce _Rembrandt_ at that point, Neal. And you still had a lot to learn! A _lot!”_

 

Neal grinned. “Okay, okay – I was a slow learner!”

 

“E-zactly!”

 

“But – it wasn’t just the skills you were teaching me, Moz!”

 

“Mmm.”

 

Neal suddenly realised that Mozzie was telling him that he’d let him down often, put him second. Or third. “Mozzie…?”

 

“Yeah, Neal. But – still here, just like you were.”

 

“You tell me to leave Steel, I will. In a second!”

 

Mozzie took off his glasses – still plain glass – and wiped them carefully. Then he said, “I should get back to Sally.”

 

“Mozzie, I was wrong about Peter and that bloody manifest! I told you! I admitted it!”

 

“I know. I have perfect recall. Over and over, you said it, variations on it.”

 

“And kept staying in New York. Even after – Kate.”

 

Mozzie nodded.

 

Neal swallowed. “I’m so sorry for everything. You asked me to leave Peter, June and New York and I wouldn’t. I’m so sorry!”

 

“Looks like Caerrovon is going to make sure you are!”

 

“Thanks! So I deserve exactly what I get?”

 

Mozzie smiled a little, teasing. “Maybe not for disobeying him once…though I guess lords take that stuff seriously, like treason! And you have been far from nice to have around, recently.  But for all you’ve put me through, mon frère, through the years - _oh,_ yeah!”

 

Mozzie went off, still smiling. Neal used the bathroom and got into bed feeling wrung out. He _had_ exploited Mozzie when he was with the Bureau, had ruined Mozzie’s plans several times, had made Mozzie feel at least at one vital juncture as though Peter was more important. He couldn’t expect Mozzie not to remember! Having a friend with a perfect memory was a burr.

 

He’d never told Mozzie, but he’d found the room the Lord used for disciplining the children, and possibly adults. The men who committed really bad crimes were probably whipped in the dungeon or perhaps, if it was done publicly, out on the road that ran by the side of the castle, between the castle and the fields. Not wanting to know, he’d never asked. _Don’t think about the bad stuff. If you think about possible consequences, you’ll never do anything!_

When making the plans, he’d just labelled the room he’d found a storage room, because that’s in effect what it was a great deal of the time. He’d never heard of Steel punishing – or having someone else punish – anyone, child or adult. Though Steel might keep that quiet, not make the culprit feel worse than necessary by shaming him. He felt his heart sink. He hoped devoutly that Steel would keep his punishment quiet. He felt a little sick.

 In the room he’d marked ‘Storage’ on the plans there was an upright chair, a big armchair, a piece of furniture he’d recognised from a short stint he’d done posing as a ‘foreign exchange student’ in a fancy British public school of long standing.

The school owned many nice art pieces, amongst them a magnificent example of a clay urn ornamented with the typical partial figures that Rodin had used when ‘sketching’, playing about with ideas for a larger assemblage. Neal had taken it, copied it, completed it, improved the signature and sold the forgery. He had been very proud, for it was good! Even Mozzie had praised it, off-handedly. It was the first sculpture he had sold for a significant amount of money!

He had also returned the original to the school, just because he could, and the Headmaster was a really decent guy and the boys were, on the whole, friendly kids and he had liked them. Had, in fact, wished the con was real life! But it had a natural expiry date: the boy he was impersonating would recover from the ‘flu’ Moz had given him.

He often wondered what the school thought when another student turned up with the same name the day after he’d disappeared! But nothing was taken, so they’d just think it was a very odd prank, perhaps?

 While there he had seen a punishment horse. The one in Steel Keep’s room wasn’t very different.

 And on the walls of that room there were large, shallow, closed cupboards with various paddles, switches, straps and what was probably the local equivalent of cane, all hanging neatly on hooks.

 

It had all made him shudder at the time. He was still relatively new to slavery, and it showed him the dreadful possibilities. He had known about it when he had, by mistake, ended up in the Lord’s bedroom, facing a furious Lord Steel. He’d been very aware of the danger in which he…knelt.

 It was only as fifty-days rolled past, winters came and went that he realised that it wasn’t often used. If ever! He would have heard something! The Keep was like any other close-knit group of people. Someone would have known something and talked about it. The slaves and freemen that lived under Steel’s rulership liked him and trusted him and obeyed him. There was no need for Steel to exercise his power physically to control them. His character was sufficient.

 Knowing of the room’s existence and his Lord’s displeasure, he shuddered more acutely now! He looked back on the last while, since he’d died…and felt as though he’d been in a dream. Or a nightmare. Not quite connecting.

 

Lord Steel had shocked him wide awake! And he’d already agreed not to run.

 

_Peter would not recognise me! Was the man he first knew the real Neal Caffrey, or am I?_

 

 

 

 

The End of Chapter 26

 

Mozzie's conspiracy on YouTube:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yurbXgTy82s

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nEubt6HpGhs

 

Come on...admit, you never know where this is going, either!


	27. Ending a Chapter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara starts the healing process...Neal changes his mind and June get's the start of an explanation from him.

 

 

 

As he’d promised, Neal didn’t go to the plants that night and, perhaps not surprisingly, did not sleep well.

 

He had learnt over the years to just lie still and rest, and that helped. His body did get some benefit. Keeping his mind quiet was a far greater challenge. He could usually resort to going over old jobs in which he’d played a part…the Raphael was fun, getting back the Degas, playing Dagliesh…and if his mind was too wide awake, planning new cons, new heists: making off with Michelangelo’s David and leaving a perfect butter sculpture in it’s place, moving the Great Pyramid to Israel overnight (but that would probably start a war, so…perhaps not), removing Peter Burke’s wall safe and replacing it with a wall oven complete with complimentary popcorn, and then there was this truly gorgeous little bronze _art nouveau_ figurine that wasn’t the most valuable lamp in the world, but Neal just loved it and had always coveted it.

 It had sold at auction when he had just got his anklet deal and hadn’t yet got in touch with Mozzie (and the money), and he always felt that it going to anyone else was just a crime! He had made an offer, all legitimate, through Mozzie (and several intermediaries, for anonymity) offering them a healthy profit, and had been turned down flat, unappreciative Philistines!

 

 _They probably have it locked away in a safe somewhere!_ _She’s lonely! I’d love her and illuminate her with subtle lighting to show her off…_

       

It now belonged to someone in Kentucky, which also seemed… unlikely…and their security system was top of the line, making it a challenge. He’d stolen it a thousand times over the years! There were at least three holes in their security, unless they’d patched them. One day, back on Earth, he’d just go and get her. After all, he loved her, which gave him a huge advantage. Or would that just be Too Easy? He could outwit the security system easily with Moz’s help. Perhaps leave a snarky little receipt and half the amount he’d finally offered the kidnappers of his little lady!

Somehow, tonight, though, through all his artful art heists, the voice of one very angry Lord of Steel Keep kept rising and falling as an unwanted audio-track without a mute button, or none that he could find. Then, when he finally fell asleep, his brief nap was haunted and he was being chased by far worse demons than Peter Burke or even (hard to believe) Kramer and his goons, and he was tiring…he could feel their hot, sulphurous breath on his neck…. He eventually gave up the unequal contest in disgust and got up, showered and dressed.

 Then, since it was still too early to go and see Sara, he spent a little time putting down his thoughts in a letter to Steel, read it over and, as was his habit, left it to re-read later, perhaps get a new perspective on things. He hid it carefully in the compartment he’d built, and went out of his room. At least he would have the pleasure of seeing Sara’s face as she awoke! He took along the hand-mirror from the bathroom.

 

He hurried to the Greatroom, his eyes alight with anticipation. Sara had been beautiful, and now Lira was going to do the most incredible art restoration ever! Art was, after all, just a copy of something perfect, because though art wasn’t always beautiful, people always were.

 

Lira was already with Sara, and he went to her and whispered, “She looks so much better, Lira! Thank you!” The burn marks were gone – just completely, the skin smooth and, though a little red, already healing. Her hair looked healthier, which Neal didn’t think could be possible! She was resting comfortably.

 

She turned to him and smiled and said, “You thank me, but would you thank water for running downhill, sweet man?”

 

“I think I need to speak to you, Lira, if you have a chance. I know you’re busy with Sara…she will get completely healed, won’t she?”

 

“It will take a little time. Her mind and body have become crippled, Neal. They are used to this condition. But yes, she will be young and beautiful and healthy again. And I know, Neal – there is something wrong - ”

 

Neal saw Lord Steel come into the room, also concerned for his guest. He smiled at him, and Steel came over, looking over Neal’s shoulder at Sara, still deeply asleep. He then squeezed Neal’s shoulder and said, “She does look better! How did damage such as this happen?”

 

“I know not the details, my Lord, but probably some warfare with the aliens. Sally found her, she was in a…place that looks after indigents? I think she has been living on very little.”

 

“I am glad Sally found her and you brought her.”

 

“We – the Earthlings who ended up here, and have the freedom to go back and forth to Earth – we enjoy a unique blessing, being able to help our friends by bringing them here.”

 

“Mmm.” Steel’s eyes met his, and they smiled. “Better now, Neal?”

 

“Much better. Thank you, my Lord.”

 

“But you slept not.”

 

“I promised that go to the plants last night I would not, and I did not, my Lord.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“I asked Lira, and it seems that Sara’s recovery will not be as quick as a single sword-thrust or even Diana’s life-threatening multiple wounds…”

 

Lira turned and said, “She has…grown this way, Caerrovon. Like a tree that grows in a strong wind, all bent and twisted. It will not be overnight, but in a few days, I believe, all will be well.”

 

“Thank you, Lira – and take your time and get her settled, Neal. It is as important as getting her well.”

 

“I understand, my Lord, though I would rather not delay more than necessary.”

 

Steel squeezed his shoulder again. Neal had made a commitment and seemed much more like his usual self. The Lord just wished he understood what had changed him. And at least part of this Neal was a façade – Steel could feel his exhaustion and…fear? Sadness? Neal was too tired to shield properly and that in itself said a great deal about his state.

 

_I shall speak to Lira when she is done with this woman. It is as if Neal is planning to run, and, as Mozzie said, as though he has nothing to lose, or as though he feels he should, or has to._

It was only a good three hours after the rest had finished the first meal that Sara stirred. Lira had gone to see a pregnant woman at Laffaysham, and Neal had just taken over from Diana sitting at her bedside. He called Di back and she said, “I’ll get someone in the kitchen to make some food! If she’s anything like I was, she’ll be starving!”

 

Sara opened her eyes and immediately saw Neal, who smiled and took her hand. “You’re safe. How do you feel?”

 

“You mean,” she stopped and cleared her throat, “it wasn’t all a nightmare?”

 

Neal rolled his eyes a little and crumpled his lower lip against his top teeth. “No, Sara, it’s really me and we’re here on a distant planet. But tell me you feel better!”

 

She looked around, clear-headed enough now to see how alien it all was. “Sometimes in the past you _were_ the nightmare! But you weren’t lying, were you?”

 

“I don’t even get a chance to outright lie much any more. Some of the folks here can read minds, or hearts!”

 

“I’m having trouble believing in an alien planet – if it was before the wars I’d say it was a movie set or something – don’t try and get me to believe in an honest Caffrey!”

 

“Under duress, Sara! Under duress!”

 

“So Peter’s here?”

 

“I object to your line of thinking! He never managed to make me _honest!”_ ”

 

Diana came through with a bowl of soup hot from the stove. She answered, “No, not at the moment. But he was, we all were for many months…the time isn’t the same here. We need Mozzie! He remembers everything!”

 

“Oh, I am so hungry!” Sara exclaimed, and sat up – and then stared at the others with what looked like real fear in her widening eyes. “I sat up! I just sat up!”

 

“Come, let me help you,” Diana offered, handing off the bowl to Neal.

 

“B-but you don’t understand!” Sara went on. “Usually I can hardly move for ages, sometimes an hour! I haven’t any strength and every move hurts! And now,” she waved her arms, “look!” Her eyes were still wide; her face broke into a huge smile.

 

Neal and Diana were beaming. Neal remembered a line from one of his favourite books, Illusions, ‘it looked like she’d just been given arms to play with’, something like that, though it was a man in the book!

 

“I told you, didn’t I? No-one will hurt you and you may get healed?”

 

“Yes. But Neal Caffrey is trying to sell me something, must be a scam,” she laughed. Diana settled pillows around her and she asked, “May I have that bowl now? It smells delicious. And you can tell me your story. Well – Diana, you tell me, I still have reservations about Neal!”

 

Diana tried to do the story justice and not tire Sara out!

 

“You’re leaving out all the good stuff – the party, and your acrobatics with Jones and having our Lord and the horses with velvet coats and purple eyes – and your lover and baby!” Neal complained. “And you didn’t even tell Sara’s you’d offed that vicious owner of yours!”

 

Sara looked a great deal more confused, but at that point Theo decided he needed feeding and Tammy brought him through. Sara’s eyes lit up, and she handed Neal her empty bowl without looking at him.

 

“That’s put me in my place,” murmured Neal. “I’ll go and get some more soup – you girls can do mothering things. Hi, Theo – it won’t always be this bad, little buddy! Sometimes we get to drive the car and carry the packages! Hang in there!”

 

He left them, smiling to himself. He almost bumped into Lord Steel and Brak, coming to see the patient.

 

“Oh! Sorry Brak, I nearly - ”

 

“Neal, you did stand on my foot! Lucky you are so light!

         “Your friend looks much better!”

 

For a few seconds, Neal couldn’t speak. His eyes filled with tears. He got himself under control and said, “It is as though she’s a different woman. She is not completely back to her old self, but - ”

 

“Neal – come with me!” Lord Steel said.

 

“I need to take her another bowl of - ”

 

“Believe it or not, Brak is quite capable of carrying bowls, are you not, Brak!”

 

Brak sighed theatrically. “I am, Caerrovon!”

 

Steel steered Neal into his study and shut the door and pushed him onto the couch. He sat next to him and folded him into his arms. Neal struggled for another minute or two and then leaned against him and sobbed. Steel made those same silly, meaningless comforting noises that humans make all over the universe and held him until the sobs eased. Then he let Neal go and offered him a kerchief.

 

“Sorry, my Lord!”

 

“For what, Neal?”

 

“Oh, everything! But crying like a baby – it is just, she was so beautiful and strong and – and _bossy!_ And I picked her up and carried her here and there was nothing she could do!”

 

“You were close?”

 

Neal chuckled a little damply. “She testified at my trial and did her best to get me locked up for life because she believed I had stolen a very, very valuable painting, though she had not a smidgen of proof. And then Peter forced me to work with her and it was horrible – and – well, things happened, and – I ended up asking her to marry me as part of a con, and she went along with it and - ”

 

“So the marrying part was not real.”

 

“Supposed to be it was not, but somehow it became more real than either of us had expected. But she had to leave and Peter was put in prison and I had not seen or heard from her till – till I saw her last night. A broken reed, Moz called her.”

 

“One day I need a full accounting of your life, Neal! Not just the official record, or Mozzie’s very unofficial record! I only hear bits and pieces!

..........“And last night was an emotional night. ”

 

“It was, my Lord. I am sorry for all that, too. I – I mean – I am not sorry about my decision to stay your son, my Lord!” He looked up, the light catching his limpid eyes, a little concerned. Then his eyes fell and he just looked miserable.

 

“I am glad about that, Neal. And – just so I understand – you did not have the very, very valuable painting.”

 

Neal made a face. “That was not an important part of the story, my Lord, I - ”

 

“So you _did!”_ Lord Steel laughed.

 

“Let us agree that I did not have it in my possession, but could have easily located it, my Lord?”

 

“I can see why Peter sometimes envies you.”

 

“And sometimes hates me!

........“And - and then now, after just one night, she is so much like the old – the original Sara.”

 

“And you love her?”

 

“Yes, I do. But it was all a long time ago. I have changed a great deal, I am quite sure she has. I would always want her as a friend. I know not why I reacted so strongly to seeing her so much better!”

 

“You are very tired and I think stressed, Neal. I tried to make your life easier, last night, but you have placed yourself in a difficult position – your choice, but it makes it no less difficult.”

 

“If there is one thing you, and Mozzie, and Peter would agree in regards to me, it is this – I am very good at getting myself into difficult positions! Sometimes I can get myself out again.”

 

“Not this time, not with me, Neal.

.........“Unless you can explain to me…but I gave you every opportunity.”

 

“Oh, I know. Trying to I was not. Explain to you I can not. Sometimes we are too different, our cultures too different. I messed up and I accept my fate.

.........“And yes, I am very tired.”

 

“Then that explains the emotion, that and seeing a dear friend change from a terrible crushed image of herself to something much closer to the woman you remembered.”

 

“I am not usually given to uncontrolled outbursts, my Lord.”

 

“No. Can you please tell me yet what is wrong, Neal? Look not like that! I can feel your…pain.”

 

“I love you, Lord, please always, always remember that, no matter what happens – you give me second chances and third chances. But some things I have ruined completely and forever, no going back.”

 

There was a knock on the door and Steel would have cursed if it would have done any good. Neal stood immediately and Steel called, “Come!” and Brak put his head in the door and asked, “Is Neal available? Sara is asking for him.”

 

Steel stood and Neal turned to him and hugged him. “Remember, Lord!” he said, and hurried out.

 

“What was that, son?” Brak demanded.

 

“I am not at all sure, Brak.”

 

“What are you to remember?”

 

“That he loves me.”

 

“You could hardly forget! Of all the people here, he verbally makes his devotion known most often, think you not?”

 

“And yet, Brak…he disobeys me and distances himself from me.”

 

Brak’s eyebrows went up and he scratched his beard. “He disobeyed you outright? Um, surely, you would have to…?”

 

“Punish him. Yes. And here is another mystery: Neal Caffrey, the most eloquent trickster in several universes, if Peter Burke, FBI Agent, Diana Berrigan, FBI Agent, Mozzie – who knows what I can call Mozzie! – an expert on Neal Caffrey? – _and_ Neal Caffrey himself are to be believed - ”

 

“Can you believe a liar about a liar?” Brak asked, chuckling.

 

Steel laughed. “Perhaps if it is something about which he brags we may take that word, even if we decide it is a little exaggerated!

”But the mystery is this: this trickster would usually have as many excuses, alibi’s and justifications as you have hairs in that beard, Brak, dear. Yet he allowed himself to be placed – nay, he was the one who placed himself there – in a position in which I must, _have_ to beat him for disobedience!”

 

Brak puzzled a moment. “That seems unlike our Neal!”

 

“Yes, does it not?”

 

“Are you being tricked, is this a prank or a con?”

 

“I would think so, Brak, indeed, except that there is no lightness in my son at present, except for the healing of his Sara. He speaks as though he might be called back to Earth forever. So then this additional show of fealty, accepting my judgement and the penalties that follow, is merely to show how much he loves me and honours me, knowing that he will never pay the debt?”

 

“Are you quite adamantly sure it would not be easier to find a woman to take to wife, Caerrovon? These Earthlings seem so complex and of the Earthlings, you needs must pick the two most convoluted?”

 

“No accounting for taste!” the Lord laughed, but he looked after Neal with concern in his eyes.

 

 

 

Neal hurried out and Diana and Tammy were helping Sara to stand. She was laughing, a little shaky, but she was managing to stay upright, even though she needed them to balance.

         “Look!” she exclaimed.

 

Neal went to her, put his arm round her and kissed her cheek. “Nothing keeps Sara Ellis down for long!”

 

“But I think I’d _like_ to sit, now?” she said, a little breathless, and he let her down. “Have you seen Theo? He really is the son of two women, one an Earthling and one from here…what is this planet called?”

 

“Brethsham,” Tammy told her.

 

“And a little boy! Well, we’ve done it, girls!” she said to Diana and Tammy, who were both smiling.

 

“What’s that?” Diana demanded.

 

Sara went on, “We’ve now reached nirvana, paradise, whatever the term is…we truly can do without men!”

 

The other two laughed and Neal scowled as blackly as he could. “Hey! I understand these two being happy about that, but you…?”

 

“Well, we _can_ do without you. We might keep you stabled somewhere, for when we get bored! I always thought you looked better in a cell, Neal! Or perhaps a pretty, diamond-encrusted titanium cage?”

 

“I think I am leaving!” Neal complained.

 

Sara’s face softened. “No – don’t go. I am struggling to cope with everything and I tend to react badly to feeling out-of-control.

         “I am truly grateful to you and Sally and Mozzie! And the very alien woman…?”

 

“Lira.”

 

“Lira!” she agreed.

 

“You saw?” Neal gave her the hand-mirror.

 

She looked, but was merely wondering, not startled, so she had looked before. “It will take decades for me to get used to looking in the mirror again without flinching and trying to shut one eye and not see! All the scars are gone! My hair is better…I am tired, but I would love to be able to shower!”

 

“We can manage that!” Diana said.

 

“I shall go and arrange something!” Tammy nodded. She, again, was the odd-girl-out, since she had no history with Sara.

 

“Lira says you will be totally healed, and we have seen her do wonders,” Neal told her. “Have you had any chance to think what you want your future to look like?”

 

Sara dropped her chin and looked up at him, serious. “Neal, it is all so wonderful…I actually feel as though I have a future! But it is very scary!”

 

“Before the accident, did you have a home, friends and a life in London?” Neal asked. “I should have kept in touch but if you knew what I went through in New York when you left - ” He shrugged, but Sara knew him well enough to read the shadows in his eyes.

 

“Want to pit your suffering against mine, Caffrey?” Sara joked, softly.

 

“We-ell…I had a bunch of emotional sufferings and then we were abducted by those same horrible aliens in those huge metal cylinder-ships and we were stuck there with thousands of others…and of all the Earthlings, I had to get stuck with Peter!”

 

“But you like Peter! I know there were some reservations on both sides, but I thought you were good friends!”

 

“I’m exaggerating, but by the time we were shackled to the same uncomfortable metal bench, I probably would rather have had Keller and Adler and Hagen! But we had June with us, and you know how protective Peter is. It brought us back together temporarily, at least - !”

 

“June! On a slave ship!”

 

“I think she got caught in the net, she was probably the oldest person there. They wanted men and women 16 up to about 40, I guess, though there were people older, like June.”

 

“How did she survive? How horrible – I’m assuming it was horrible, not like this..?” she waved her hands about. “This seems very...civilised.”

 

“It is. More than Earth back then, in many ways.

         “It was truly disgusting. We tried to shield June as much as possible. The food, the stink – there were few amenities shall we say – the aggression from the Slavers – Peter and I were both whipped more than once, and it just went on and on and we couldn’t understand them. I began to pick up the language a little, but most of it was ‘Shut Up!’ ‘Stand Up!’ so not very useful in normal conversation! We didn’t know where they were taking us, whether we were going to be food, fertilizer, workers or what!”

 

“And then you were…”

 

“Dragged off the ship – poked with sticks and stung with whips – and Peter and I were whipped again, and then beaten with sticks because they tried to separate us from June – and a Slaver bought us and did let us wash and did feed us something that was gourmet food after the pig swill we’d been given!” He took a breath, realising the anger rising in his voice. “And then we were put on display like cattle, day after day. God! It was so frightening. Most of the buyers didn’t look in the least appealing! We did _not_ want to go home with them! They looked cruel or at least uncaring.

         “But then Lord Steel saw us, spoke to us, bought all three of us and looked after us.”

 

“Your voice just lifts when you speak about him!”

 

“I can never express the relief! It was exhausting. When we could wash, eat good food and lie down and rest on something comfortable, be treated as though our needs mattered…everyone here was so nice…we just slept and slept.

         “And you, Sara? What happened to you?”

 

“I was walking along near King's Cross and there was a shadow. It was a lovely sunny day! Everyone looked up and sort of gasped, because the huge space-ship was hovering over us, and then one of the fighters fired on it – Earth fighters, I mean, the RAF - and the alien vessel fired back and there was a fireball…I just saw the billowing orange and I don’t know what happened because it was months later before I was conscious for any length of time. I’d been burnt, bones broken, hit by shrapnel all over, my medical record rivals Evil Kneival’s I think! I was in pain so much, for so long, and often the drugs wouldn’t touch it.

“Eventually I was sort of stable, they gave me this old wheelchair and a horrible little room. I was alive. I just didn’t want to be.”

 

“Now there’s something I can understand,” murmured Neal. “And now? What would you like to do when you’re completely healed?”

 

“I don’t know, Neal. It’s quite traumatic to think that I have to make decisions! I couldn’t work, could hardly think! I thought I’d just hang around until I died…life expectancy isn’t great for people with all my issues, and having to take drugs. I kept getting infections, you know? A nurse would come, most were really nice, but it was as though some of them felt I was a waste of time. I was never going to get better!”

 

Mozzie walked in and Diana said, “I’m going to go and help Tammy, make sure Theo isn’t a bother – we’ll talk, Sara!”

 

“So,” Neal pushed, gently, “you want to go back to London? Because you are going to be well and healthy and beautiful!”

 

“Hi, Mozzie!

..........“No…too many bad memories! Not at first, but I've been like this for years, Neal.”

 

“New York, then?”

 

Sara looked scared again. “I suppose. And I guess that’s changed as much as London?”

 

“Yes. Maybe more. But some things are the same.”

 

“Where will I live? What am I going to do to support myself?

         “I’m not sounding very grateful, but I really am, Neal! I just feel all shaky and – and – you know, it’s hard just sitting talking to you! I haven’t spoken this many words in a day since the…day it happened. Even though I feel much better, it’s emotionally exhausting!”

 

“I’m sorry, Sara. I should have been more thoughtful. I understand – I felt like that after prison. Everything was such an effort!”

 

“Yeah. My prison cell was my body! You had more room!”

 

Neal stood and kissed her forehead, and Diana came in and Neal picked Sara up and put her in her wheelchair and Di wheeled her away to go and have a bath.

 

“We did good,” Mozzie said, watching her leave.

 

“We did good, Moz. Thank you so much for finding her.”

 

“Thank Sally, but she wasn’t sure it was Sara! She was looking for you.”

 

Neal shifted uneasily.

 

“Can’t you trust me, mon frère? And if not me, then our father?”

 

“I don’t want to say anything, Mozzie.”

 

“Okay. I’m here, though.”

 

“Thanks.”

 

“We should go and get June.”

 

“ _June!_ No, Moz ! – why June?”

 

“Because Sara will do very well staying at June’s till she finds her feet. I’m sure June will be happy to do it. We can help with the money, but June is a lovely solid yet soft shoulder on which Sara can lean. June’s sensible and kind and she’s still got lots of room. She was wonderful with you…just enough contact, not pushy and irksome.”

 

“She was,” Neal agreed with what Mozzie considered strange reluctance – but then, Neal had been strange for a long time now!

“I’m going to get her. You wait and be there to help Di and Tam with Sara.”

 

“No – Mozzie – wait - ”

 

But Mozzie was gone. Neal stood there feeling his heart sink. He had avoided June, but now he was going to have to speak to her, and she knew him too well. He curled up on the couch, feeling as he had done when he was very small…this couch was very big! - and though he hadn’t thought he would, he managed to fall asleep.

 

 

 

As usual, he didn’t sleep for long. Despite his exhaustion, and the fact that everyone saw him, grinned and tip-toed around him, he was suddenly wide awake, as though he’d detected a threat. He sighed. He had always been a little that way, as long as he could remember, and prison had exacerbated it. Now it was as if all the hounds of hell were baying after him. If not in dreams, then in that few moments as consciousness returned.

 

June and Mozzie were sitting talking on the other side of the room. He stood and straightened his clothing and ran fingers through his hair. He smiled his trademark smile and walked over.

 

“June, dear,” he said, kissing her hand, “how are you? Has Mozzie been telling you about our friend-in-need?”

 

“He has, Neal.”

 

He felt her scrutinising him. She’s seen him putting on all his masks and flying all his false flags when he’d first exchanged cell for anklet, she’s seen him with his masks lowered when they were dancing, or singing, relaxed and happy, she’d seen him with his masks stripped away by burning jet fuel, she’d seen him turned to marble sculpture by Peter and El’s betrayal. She knew him too well.

 

He smiled at her and sat.

 

_Play the game! That’s what we do! We play the game as long as we draw breath!_

“Is it too much to ask, for her to stay with you?”

 

“Of course not, Neal. I already have an extra room made up for Cindy, she was supposed to come and see me but – I think there’s a boy, or something. It won’t be any trouble. Nice that you put the elevator in, it’ll make it easier if she’s still tired; the room’s on the second floor.”

 

“Someone thought your home was a little inferior without one,” Neal grinned.

 

“Well, I’m not getting any younger, dear, and if you want any more marble blocks up in your apartment, I think the elevator will be welcomed! You designed everything so all we lost was a little linen closet space on each floor. And Mozzie and Sally came and redesigned all the shelving and things so they’re much more efficient, so we’re better off all round.”

 

Mozzie smiled. “You like Sally, don’t you June?”

 

“I think it’s more important that you like her, dear! But yes, she seems a lovely girl and a good match for you, if you don’t mind me saying so.”

 

“June, I was inviting you to say so!” Mozzie chuckled.

 

“Oh, Lira!” June said, and that lovely being drifted up and said,  

             “Hallo, June. It is good to see you looking so well.

.............“Neal, I just wanted to tell you, Tamlin and Diana have put Sara in the suite Peter and Elizabeth use when they come to stay. She is bathed and I will work on her there. Then she will sleep.”

 

“Thank you, darling, you need not have come yourself!” Neal said, taking a curl of her hair between his fingers and letting it wrap around them.

 

Lira stooped and kissed his forehead and then drifted away.

 

“I’ll go and get some tea and things, shall I?” Neal said, standing abruptly.

 

June sat up a little straighter (she always held herself so well!) and said, calmly but firmly, “No, Neal. Mozzie will go and fetch some things from the kitchen. You and I have hardly spoken since that difficult time and I am not going to be put off!

         “So come, sit, and tell me why you look like someone stole your sable brushes and left used children’s glue-brushes in their places.”

 

Mozzie gave a sort of snort of laughter and left them together, to Neal’s irritation.

 

_Some friend!_

Neal stood there, wondering what he should do. He loved June, it was true, but he couldn’t talk to her. He had a plan, but she certainly wouldn’t agree with his ideas. In fact, no-one would. He felt very lonely, all of a sudden. And he had to learn to live with that, he supposed. No-one else seemed to care about this. They decided one way or the other and that was it.

 

It was the whole thing with his Lord’s mother’s portrait, all over again. Wanting to steal it, not wanting to cause trouble, not wanting to be in trouble.

 

“Sit, Neal. You have to talk to someone.”

 

“If I tell you, will you promise not to tell anyone else? _Anyone?”_

 

“Of course, Neal, but – not even Lord Steel? Not even Mozzie?”

 

“I guess Mozzie will have to know. He’ll guess, anyway, and he’ll be furious with me. And a little sad, too.

         “Can we go somewhere else and talk? This is too – public. There’s too much traffic.”

 

“Where, Neal – your suite?”

 

“No. I don’t want anyone finding us. The dungeon where the plants were?”

 

June looked startled, and at that moment Mozzie joined them, followed by Implin, a young Tassin slave. They both bore trays.

 

“Thank you, Imp!” Neal smiled happily at her and June looked up in admiration. He was better than Byron at quite a few things, and that was one of them! The girl put the tray down, batted her eyelashes at him and left, and Neal’s smile faded.

 

“Guess that’s another universal constant, like c and h and Pi,” Mozzie muttered to himself, getting ready to pour the tea.

 

“Neal wants us to talk in the dungeon, Mozzie,” June said, her voice level.

 

Mozzie turned in surprise. “The dungeon, Neal? Why?”

 

“Privacy. No-one will think to look for us there.”

 

“You do know that _I’m_ the paranoid conspiracy geek, don’t you?”

 

“You taught me well, Moz!”

 

“Let’s go to our studio, Neal. No-one goes there except us.”

 

They both carried a tray and June followed along. She had been concerned about Neal, now she was downright worried. And he wasn’t going to avoid telling her what was going on!

 

They settled June, poured tea, handed her plates and little snacks. “Firstly, thank you for always being there for us, June, love,” Neal said, taking her hand. “Thank you for looking after Sara on Earth. I can’t thank you enough, in fact, for everything.”

 

“You two have helped me just as much! Look at how you, Neal, cared for me, you and Peter, when we were abducted. I think I would have died of fright or just plain loneliness and misery without you.”

She was looking and Neal and holding his hand, so she registered the flinch. She shook his fingers. “Neal – now what is it? You’ve been holding back on me since you died and returned, and I’m not letting you get away with it any more, dear. It’s not healthy!”

 

“Oh!” Neal said, suddenly. “I should do something else first! Can you wait five minutes?”

 

He didn’t let either of them respond, he went out of the rooms and raced down the corridors to his room and took out the letter. He scanned it swiftly, signed it, folded it and folded over a dog-ear to avoid having to seal it. It wasn’t pretty, but it was just supposed to be a short note apologising to Lord Steel.

 

He drew a quick breath in and out, a sigh of regret. Then he ran back towards the Greatroom, nearly collided with a few of the soldiers but managed to dodge at the last minute and hurried to Steel’s study. The door was open and he sighed again – this time with relief – before placing the note on the desk-top, looking around the room, and then jogging back to join June and Mozzie.

 

“Now tell me, Neal, and no more running off!” June said. “You owe me that much.”

 

“I owe you both this much,” Neal said. “I am going to resign, whatever the word is – abdicate? – the heirship and sonship.”

 

“ _What?”_ Mozzie exclaimed. “But - ”

 

“You wanted to know, then let me tell you, let me tell it all. Okay? By the time I’m finished, all your questions will be answered, I believe. You may not like it, but I’m sorry, I’ve made some decisions. Everyone is always telling me…well, other than Peter…not to listen to others – oh, wait, hey – he always told me not to listen to _you,_ Mozzie!

         “I have finally agreed with – all of you. This is very personal, and I hope you will not try and argue me out of this course, because I don’t want to argue with two of the best, really best friends and loves.”

 

Mozzie and June glanced at each other. Neal’s little speech had done nothing to calm or soothe either of them! He seemed determined and his mouth had that mulish set to it that Mozzie knew of old but June had seldom seen. They looked back at Neal and he went on, “I am going to lie to Steel, and I wouldn’t tell you two the rest if I didn’t believe you could lie just as well as I can!

         “I am telling him I am going back to Earth for a time, that I’m not going to be his son any more. I should have made this decision a little while back, because now he’s going to want to know why I’ve changed my mind, but I think I can fool him. And I _will_ go back to Earth for a while.”

 

He paused to breathe deeply and June nodded. “Go on, Neal.”

 

“To explain, I have to go back to when I died. I told you it was peaceful and pleasant – and it was. It was only afterwards that I realised how much it scared me, when the plants held my energy for – for you, June, love.”

 

There was another pause. “You see, normally they just take it, absorb it and it becomes part of them. That’s what I first felt. It was perfectly nice.”

 

He looked up, then, at June. “I’m sorry, what I’m going to say is going to hurt you, dear. But if I don’t tell you, you won’t understand.” She nodded. “At first I was floating, part of the flowers, part of the light…and then I was standing on a road or a path, winding through flowers and trees. Beautiful. The air smelt wonderful. The path moved towards some bright light and I was walking along, singing. Sounds ridiculous, I know.”

 

“Sounds similar to near-death experiences others have had, Neal!” Mozzie said.

 

“Yeah, no, Moz. It wasn’t, and you know why. Let me carry on.” He pushed his fingers through his hair and looked at the floor as he went on, “I got to a little clearing, there were benches and – there was Byron.”

 

 

 *****_________********_________*****

 

 

 

In his study, Lord Steel unfolded the note from Neal. In beautiful High Sheel script, it said,

 

         “Dear Lord Steel,

I apologise for any awkwardness this missive might cause. I reacted the other day to your question out of misguided loyalty and, upon further reflection, have decided to choose the other alternative and leave for Earth.

I will no longer be your son, Lord Steel, though please believe that I am truly humbled by the honour you bestowed on me and mean no disrespect in withdrawing from the position. Perchance I may continue as a sort of ambassador to the other Keeps, if that is acceptable to your Lordship.

I believe you to be a human of extraordinary depth of love, kindness and compassion. You are brave and hold to high ideals. That is why your people love you. You need to find a woman of similar character and marry, that your lineage may remain forever at Steel Keep, and it may remain the haven it was for the Earthlings, forever.

Thank you for everything, and I will continue to love you and serve you as long as I live, Lord.

                                          

                                                            Neal Caffrey.

 

The Lord read it again. The meaning was painfully clear, but he couldn’t quite accept it at face value. He drew a deep breath, and wondered if Neal had already left for Earth.

 

But what could he do? He himself had urged Neal to take this course of action! To now change sides would only cause Neal to mistrust his motives – and his sanity!

 

_I should have known that someone as smart as this son would outwit me...everything I tried to do to get him to tell me what he was feeling, what was wrong, failed!_

 

He went to the door and ‘felt’ for Neal, but either Neal had left, or he was tightly shielded. Steel set off, striding quickly to Neal and Mozzie’s suite, which was empty. He was walking more slowly, wondering where to look when Lira came out of what he thought of as Peter and El’s suite, having sung to Sara. She closed the door and said,

         “What is it, Caerrovon?”

 

Without saying anything, he handed over Neal’s short letter. She read it and looked at him, handing the paper back. “He is very confused, Caerrovon.”

 

“And has been for some time. He was sleeping on the planet of the plants because he can sleep there, he sleeps little here, or anywhere else. Lira – could they have some hold on him?”

 

“They are truly beautiful. To an artist like Neal that is some fascination. They also give pleasure, Caerrovon, whatever that is to the being. They have learnt this. They are not conscious in the same way humans are: which varies, I know. But they have learnt this trick quickly. Usually they killed their prey, but since the doctors have been going there (and none of them have anything to do with healing, Caerrovon) they have found ways to make it attractive to them, pleasant, so that they will keep returning.”

 

“So they have a way of making people need them. Neal _might_ be addicted to them!”

 

“I do not know that I would use that term. And they are not…malevolent, Caerrovon. Feel any evil I can not. I think, however different they are, I would know.”

 

“What can I do, Lira? I love Neal, you know that.”

 

“I know, Caerrovon! I can feel how much you love him! And he knows it – he knew it all the time he was dead!”

 

“I feel I am losing him. He chose to be with the plants and risk my anger. I do not understand, Lira.”

 

“I am aware of great turmoil in him. But he is resisting any help or even contact!”

 

“Is he still here, at Steel? Find him I cannot. And I am not sure what to say when I do!”

 

“Hurt it can not if you tell him you love him. He is here, I will take you to him.”

 

“But you agree he knows I love him and would do anything for him.”

 

“Yes. Let us see if we can solve this puzzle.”

 

She walked a little ahead of Steel, who glanced down now and then at his son’s hand-writing.

 

 

  *****_________********_________*****

 

 

 

“ _My_   Byron?” June clarified.

 

“Your Byron!” Neal smiled briefly. “The hat, the suit, the attitude, the works. Only young, like when you were with Ford? He was standing by a bench and I went over. I was so excited! We sat and he told me how much he loved you. He told me about the hand he won the Devore from Sy with, we talked for what seemed like a long time. Lots of things – but it kept coming back to how much he loved you, June.”

 

“Don’t see the upsetting part,” Mozzie put in.

 

“That’s a lovely thing to hear, Neal,” June said, her eyes damp. “I miss him still, you know. You and Mozzie have filled that gap. A little.”

 

“I know. Which is the only reason – you and Moz and m-Lord Steel – that I have waited this long. That and they didn’t seem ready.”

 

“Who didn’t?”

 

“Then – and it really did seem like a couple of hours, maybe, he said I had to go back, and I suddenly felt this bump and I was all wrapped up in blankets and you were all there…!”

 

The other two gazed at him, wondering what was coming.

 

“I realised then, well, shortly afterwards, that I had come very close to disappearing, dying. It’s happened often before, but remember your teeth, Mozzie?”

 

June and Mozzie’s eyebrows went up, then Mozzie said, “Yeah – your new handler nearly caught me! Your FBI ‘friends’ took all my assets!”

 

“Yeah. That’s the time. And Moz, accumulating even more was fun, wasn’t it?

.........“Anyway, you said something about pulling some other man’s teeth, how ‘On the off chance that there actually is a heaven, this is definitely going to get me barred,’ and I said, ‘I think we took heaven off the table a long time ago’ ?”

 

“I recall,” Mozzie nodded. Both he and June were expecting more, whereas Neal looked as though he’d made his point. Seeing their expressions, Neal went on,

         “Well, my experience - that wasn’t a near-death experience where the dying man gets to take a peek at the good things to come and then has to return because he’s got some plan to work out, a great book to write or missions to build in Africa, or something.

         “This was me, conman, criminal, bad guy. No heaven, ever. Not going there. Somewhere a lot hotter and less pleasant.”

 

“I see.” June also saw that Lira and Steel had come up behind Neal and were standing in the doorway. Steel put his finger to his mouth. She wouldn’t have obeyed him except she thought perhaps it was in Neal’s interest not to know they were there.

 

“So you’re suddenly worried about hell?” Mozzie asked. “After all these years?”

 

“But – I could die any time. You know that, Mozzie. The life we lead? It’s been a blast, but I think it’s come to an end.”

 

His two friends just stared at him. Neal, their Neal, scared straight?

 

They weren't quite sure what to say.

 

 

 

 

The End of Chapter 27

 

I will try and get the next chapter up soon...it continues straight on from this one.

 

 

 


	28. The Brink

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal tells his loved ones his plans for the future.

 

 

Mozzie and June stared at Neal.

 

“You want to go straight?” Mozzie’s eyebrows rose from behind his glasses. “Give back the loot and fill the caves and go to mass every day and give money to the FBI retirement fund – or whatever you think will make it up to the Guy Upstairs and appease his wrath?”

 

“No. For several reasons. Mainly, I don’t want to. I don’t want to live like that. That’s not who I am and if the Guy Upstairs is as smart as He would have to be, He’s going to know it, too! We have to believe that whoever keeps the planets in their orbits and creates amazing life-forms from viruses to the Chiri would be un-connable! So it’d be a con and the most boring one I can think of. And I could _still_ die!”

 

“Well, yes, but what if there is no heaven, or hell, or anything – just darkness or nothingness?” Moz asked. June just watched, having already realised what Neal planned.

 

“Then that’s fine. I have no problem with being dead, Moz, if it’s like that…at least I’ve _lived_ life. It’s been fun, hasn’t it?”

 

“It is fun, except when my friend becomes all depressed or existential or wherever this is going!”

 

“I think it’s all very sensible. I’ve thought about it – hey, I’ve experienced it! If I die, according to most schools of thought, I go to some bad place. Let’s for convenience call it hell. I have lived a ‘bad’, fun life for so long and I have no wish to change dramatically.

“Therefore, hell.

“I could die by mistake at any time, and that’s where I’ll go. Also, though I have no real problem being dead – though I’d prefer _not_ in hell, you understand! – I would prefer to eliminate the possibility of being killed in some horribly painful manner.”

 

“Surely,” Mozzie asked, “there’s no way of totally eliminating the chance of that – oh.”

 

“Yeah, there _is_ a way of eliminating that _and_ avoiding hell as an option altogether.” Neal glanced up and smiled. “Sorry about this, have to say it – I may not have the chance to steal anything else! – _I_ am enacting the Roanoke Praxis. And I don’t even need to remove my teeth!”

 

Mozzie looked up, seeing the smile playing around Neal’s lips. “You’re serious.”

 

“Deadly.” The smile grew a little. The blue eyes sparkled.

 

Mozzie elucidated, “You’re going to go to the plants and give them your energy. You do know you’re crazy, Neal?”

 

“I’m not. It’s very logical!” Neal was a little miffed, but not much. He knew his friends would not welcome this with open arms. “They take my energy and I become…unaware. I don’t go to hell. It’s very pleasurable, I know that for a fact! I feed that beautiful planet.

         “I’ve been going there most nights. They fed rather well on all those kidnappers, they all shared that and they’re very efficient in their use of energy, but soon they’ll need some more. That’s one reason I kept going there. I don’t want to miss it. I can feel them beginning to search. I’m part of them, just a tiny bit.”

 

“Suicide by beautiful, bioluminescent flowers. I said you always had the best exit route planned at any time, mon frère.”

 

“Did you?” Neal perked up even more. “Thanks, Mozzie! And what a magnificent grave, or memorial, whatever.”

 

“No-one will know you went there! Can’t think how it can be a memorial!” Mozzie grumbled, hiding the sadness he was feeling. Neal always had been fey. And if this is what his friend really wanted…he would have to try and learn to accept it. After trying _very_ hard to talk him out of it, and then getting hold of his concoctions to anaesthetise him if necessary! At least until he could think of another way to convince him!

Sally was all very well and good, he loved her for many reasons and she was almost as twisty and suspicious as he himself; June and Steel were like the parents he’d never had and he loved and trusted them – but no-one could ever replace Neal and their memories together. But Neal was right – they’d often faced the ultimate separation. At least he’d know it was on his friend’s own terms, and not only painless, but pleasant.

 

“You and June will know. It’s enough. Better than a granite headstone over a pine box under six feet of earth between two total strangers. And you’ve got Sally, now, Moz, and you’ve both got Steel.”

 

“But Neal,” June said, and Neal cut her off,

“Please, June…I’ve thought and thought! I know I didn’t see Byron and heaven. It was an hallucination. I can’t have, for reasons mentioned. And since then, I’ve had these _terrible_ nightmares. Being chased by demons, or some dreadful evil, and sooner or later they’re going to catch me…I’ve got to do this, June. I’m exhausted! It’s not just when I sleep now, I feel nervous all the time…looking over my shoulder. Can’t sleep without these dreams coming. Except with the flowers, and Lord Steel doesn’t want me to sleep there – and they’re going to want to feed again.

“Please. _Please_ don’t try and stop me! I’d hate for us to…I’d hate to leave you with anything but love between us. Please?”

 

“I am not going to try and stop you, Neal, dear,” June said, calmly – much too calmly in Mozzie’s opinion. “I am just saying, you _may_ be working from some invalid information.”

 

Neal responded to her quiet voice and lack of criticism. He looked up, surprised.

 

She said, “And you should know that your father and Lira came to the door a short while ago, and they are now going to join us.”

Neal slewed around, distressed.

         “You told us, Neal, dear, he needs to know as well!”

 

Neal took a deep breath. This wasn’t what he wanted, but there was nothing anyone could do to stop him, after all…well, except Mozzie. Neal had enormous admiration for Mozzie’s determination, resourcefulness and downright _cunning!_

 

The two tall beings came in and Mozzie brought two chairs over for them. Steel deliberately took his and put it next to Neal and said, “Silly boy! Going to tell me you were going to commit suicide you were not?”

 

“Please try not to argue me out of it, my – my Lord?”

 

“I will not. I do not want you to do this, and I am understating the case, but if this is what you want, go with my blessing, Neal. I would rather you went with my blessing than without, son. But I think we should hear June’s counsel, it sounds important.”

 

Neal’s whole body relaxed and he leaned on Steel, who put an arm round him. Neal looked across at June and asked, “Can you explain, June? Have I missed some vital fact, and Mozzie has not picked up on it – he loves doing so, to me, you know!”

 

June smiled. “It’s your assumptions about hell, dear. Where did you get those images of hell?”

 

Neal blinked and scanned the floor. “…the Bible?” he said, uncertainly, in English.

 

“The Bible,” whispered Mozzie to Steel and Lira, “is the holy book most Earthlings follow. I believe that is still accurate, though international statistics are now not easy to come by.”

 

“When did the Bible say the Father – our Great and Good Creator,” she said for Lira and Steel, “created hell? On which day?”

 

Neal looked uncertain. “It doesn’t mention it in Genesis, I don’t think, June.”

 

“He didn’t mention this horrible punishment to treacherous Adam and Eve, nor Cain, the first murderer who slew his brother, nor all those he destroyed by flood? Did he say the wages of sin are to burn for all eternity in hell, or a lake of fire?”

 

“N-no. ‘The wages of sin are death’,” Neal quoted, bemused.

 

“And did he warn those people he brought to Mount Sinai, through his prophet Moses, about sin and hell when he gave them the ten commandments and all the Law?”

 

“No.”

 

“What was the outcome of not following the Mosaic Law, Neal?”

 

“The curse…sickness, poverty, death.”

 

“He even said, “ ‘I call heaven and earth to witness against you today, that I have set before you life and death, the blessing and the curse. So choose life in order that you may live, you and your descendants,’ didn’t He?”

 

“Yes. He didn’t mention hell when he gave the Law…?” Neal frowned, trying to remember.

 

“No. I just started to do a study on hell, Neal. I can’t say I am an expert, I can’t say I have all the answers, many experts disagree on every word _everywhere_ \- but this hell thing seems an odd animal – we believe in it, but the Father left the many people throughout the Old Testament in total ignorance of it! Surely He would have warned them, if he thought that leprosy was bad, that poverty was bad, about the possibility of burning in terrible pain for all eternity in a dreadful place?

“Hell is not mentioned in the Old Testament. Modern Jews either have little idea of hell, do not believe in it, or have basically the same view you hold, only that it’s temporary, a training period…but it isn’t Biblical. The nearest thing mentioned is the grave…and it is sometimes translated Hades, but that also means underground. Job, when he’s going through a bad time, asks Jehovah to hide him in ‘the sheol’ – which is sometimes translated Hades which is sometimes translated hell. It really means a grave, underground. Now he _was_ having a difficult nine months, the experts say, but surely not bad enough to exchange it for an eternity of torment? But to be hidden underground till that tornado blew over, that makes sense!”

 

“But the New Testament speaks of hell!” Neal pointed out.

 

June calmly ate a dainty roll before answering. “You know there was a long silent period between the last Old Testament Book and the first New Testament Book? About 400 years?”

 

“Yes,” Neal nodded, gazing at her. He had no idea she was so well-versed in these aspects of history. Or much history at all, for that matter.

 

“Well, remember Alexander died without living issue and his mighty kingdom was split between four generals. So what we would call Greek influence was strong over all the ‘known world’ of the time. The group in Palestine called the Sadducees in the New Testament were very into ‘all things Greek’, and stopped believing in anything other than the natural. But some ideas from Greece took hold as some of their wonderful art and culture was absorbed…and _they_ believed very strongly in a hell. They called their Underworld Hades.

         “In Hades, where everyone went, according to their beliefs, the heavenly regions, called the Elysian Fields and Blessed Isles were kept separate from the pit of fire of Tartarus – which is what you are thinking of, dear, as ‘hell’ - by a huge abyss. Greek poets like Homer invented it, it was a very compelling visual – but there is nothing like it in Hebrew scripture.

         “If you believe in hell, you should believe in all the old gods and worship them, Neal!”

 

“But hell is mentioned in the New Testament,” Neal repeated, but with less conviction than before.

 

“Some words were translated hell that should not have been…the whole culture had been affected by such things as the works of Dante Alighieri’s, which speak of so-called spiritual progression, but I am sure he never expected or intended for his ideas to change the Holy Book.”

 

“You’re kidding!” Neal replied, at sea. “So …”

 

“What about Lazarus, and the nameless rich man?” enquired Mozzie.

 

“What are you, devil’s advocate?” June smiled. “Do you know the rules, Mozzie? Who was talking?”

 

“Jesus.”

 

“Who was He talking to?”

 

“Oh. He was talking _to_ the Pharisees.”

 

“Yes, he was…end of the First Covenant, too, which hardly matters in this instance. We know it was a parable, not real, because in the third chapter of John is says that no man had ascended into Heaven but Jesus. So obviously, Lazarus was not there, and he was trying to get a point across using their belief system, which was not traditional Hebrew teaching. It was Greek!

         “He was ridiculing their beliefs, Mozzie, like Peter might say to you, ‘Don’t forget your aluminium foil hat, Moz, in case the aliens steal your thoughts’ – doesn’t mean Peter believes in the efficacy of aluminium foil hats or aliens stealing thoughts!”

 

“More fool, him!” Mozzie said, with an air of great superiority.

 

“Even though the Tassin can!” Neal groaned, comically. “So hell…what was it, what should it have been translated as?”

 

“Sometimes Hades, sometimes Gehenna, a midden outside the city of Jerusalem where refuse, bodies of animals and also of executed criminals were thrown for disposal. They used sulphur, apparently, to keep it burning. It burned for a long time, but not, obviously, forever – it is now a pretty park, I believe.”

 

“No hell?” Neal asked. “Seriously?”

 

“You sound almost disappointed! The references to Gehenna – outside the city, might refer to the wicked being away from the just, for a time, but from my reading it doesn’t mean forever. Which fits in better with a loving Father, yes?

“There is one place where Tartaris, the hell-like place is used, in the book of Peter, but it was for the fallen angels and also seems for a time, an age. They may cease to exist at some point.

         “I am not sure of all this: you can read the manuscripts of experts and they all differ! But in the newer translations of the Bible there are very few references to hell, mostly repeats, you understand?

“Paul never mentioned hell in all his letters, and the Gospels were supposed to be written later than those. He was supposed to have received his revelation straight from the Lord, remember. Seems odd. It was certainly new to my thoughts. The early Christians were not condemning anyone to hell.

“Had Jesus Himself spoken about it seriously, there would have been heated debates, since there was no mention about it in what we call the Old Testament, yet none are reported.”

 

“So I would just die, anyway? Just cease to be?”

 

“Again, from reading the Books as a whole, no. You may be ‘dormant’ for a time, as you were with the plants. But in the end…well, probably not.”

 

“So…?”

 

“You know,” June said, admonishingly, “you two boys are chock full of head knowledge, yet you don’t apply yourselves where perhaps it would do the most good!

         “Mozzie, what does 1 John 1:7 say?”

 

Neal turned and Mozzie thought a moment and said, “…but if we walk in the Light, we have fellowship with one another, and the blood of Jesus His Son cleanses us from all sin.”

 

“Good!” June said. “One of my favourite versus!

         “What does the word 'all' mean in the Greek...What Greek word is translated ‘cleanses’? What exactly does it mean?”

 

Mozzie watched her as though she was likely to transform before his eyes in to another being entirely. Neal was becoming more and more amused. They had never seen this side of June! They knew she was bright – she’d survived alone when Byron was taken and again when he died, but – this?

 

Moz said, “All translates to the Greek word for all, everything. And cleanse is ‘auto katharizō’. It is the active, present tense. It means that our sins are being continuously cleansed, automatically.”

 

“That’s grace, like taking a dirty rock and putting it in a clean, flowing stream,” June told them, happily. “Then there’s John 1:29, where John the Baptist says, ‘"Here is the Lamb of God who takes away the sin of the **world** **!’** ; Jeremiah says…um…’ “they will **_all_** know me, **from the least of them to the greatest** **,"** declares the LORD, "for I will forgive their wickedness and will **remember their sins no more,** "’ and the third chapter of Lamentations puts it this way: ‘Because of the LORD's great love we are not consumed, for **his compassions never fail** **.** They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness. I say to myself, “The LORD is my portion; therefore I will wait for him ... For **men are not cast off by the Lord forever** **…”** ’

         “I am not sure how that can get any clearer, Neal!”

 

“You believe that there is no hell, as I’ve always imagined it, in the Bible, only in poetry and myths, and that eventually, at least, I will be…okay? Acceptable? Or at the worst, just dead, not aware?”

 

“I do, Neal.”

 

“B- but that’s the Bible, June. I know you believe it, you’ve obviously studied it a great deal…?”

 

“I have, and that’s one reason I believe it – but also it makes so much sense to me, now. A loving Creator that created a hell for his beloved children for whom he sent his only Son…that didn’t.”

 

“…I’m not trying to be rude, or blasphemous, but what if it isn’t true?” Neal asked, worriedly. He did not want to hurt June, but he had to ask.

 

“Then, silly, if we take the Bible out of the picture, you are worried about dying and going to hell because of some old Greek poets and Italian reproving tales – and the traditions they spawned!” June laughed. “It says that the Creator is not willing that any should perish, but that all should come to repentance. My Great Creator is not one to have his wishes and will thwarted, and He’s amazingly patient!”

 

“If there is no hell, June – and I’m just asking for your opinion – doesn’t it mean that everyone is free to sin as much as they like?” Mozzie asked.

 

June smiled mischievously. “Did the existence of human law and prisons ever change your behaviour, Mozzie? Do you think there are murderers or rapists who choose not to commit those crimes because of the existence of the law? You and Neal choose your behaviours and do not condone violence. Others, who do condone violence, sometimes commit violence within the structure of the law…who are the people who inflict water-boarding on others, for example?

“You and Neal would never do that! I think the fear of hell perhaps controls the young to some extent, but certainly not the determined evil-doer…and most would merely reject the idea of hell – even if there is one! – if it interfered with their wish to hurt others.”

 

“Well, if your studies are correct, that is one of my fears gone,” Neal mumbled, his thoughts in disarray.

 

“I have to tell you, dear Neal,” Lira spoke, gently, “that you are confused about the plants, as well.” Neal turned to her and she continued. “They take the energy that keeps your body working. They do not take what June has told me you would call your spirit, or that which you call your soul. Those would go on – and did!”

 

Neal just looked at her.

 

“She’s right, Neal!” Mozzie agreed. “Otherwise, what part of you spoke with Byron, walked in the garden with him?”

 

Neal said slowly, “Even if it was an hallucination, I was experiencing it with some part of me, wasn’t I? You’re right, the plants couldn’t have taken all of me!”

 

“There’s a country ballad in there someplace,” Mozzie grinned.

 

June looked thoughtful. “You said he told you the hand he won the suit with. Do you remember?”

 

“He said he bet big and got a heart straight flush with the last card,” Neal told her, tentatively, “a seven. He smiled so broadly at that memory!”

 

June laughed aloud. “I can imagine that smile! Sy was so mad! He wasn’t a great card player, and he didn’t even have the best of luck…and he thought his time had come! He had four aces – four aces! How many times does that happen? He would have bet anything!

“He was wearing a new suit, he was so proud of it, and he figured it would bring him luck! He had designed it for himself alone…but he threw the design into the pot, saying he’d make one for Byron that was even better! Byron called, and when that last card came up…the seven of hearts! Byron always called it ‘our card’ after that!

         “You met my beloved Byron, Neal – or you’re the best guesser in the universe!”

 

“So Byron held him to the bet?” Mozzie demanded.

 

“No, but he said it was his own fault to bet against Byron Ellington! _I_ think Byron showed off his suits better than Sy, anyway – Byron had that same elegant figure you do, Neal!”

 

“So – but – so why…” Neal ran down. Then he asked, “So why am I not sleeping, why do I have these feelings of impending doom! They aren’t figments of my imagination or old Greek poets! I can’t _sleep!_ I wake up sweating with fear and often have to shower just to be comfortable.”

 

“Is it possible, son, that you have always run, and then, that day, you were trapped? Your whole way of life failed you?” Steel asked, softly.

 

“I did get caught by Peter,” Neal said, thinking.

 

“But this time you got caught and _died!_ I feel there is a difference in severity, son!”

 

“So I felt my methods would no longer work? That something could now catch me…as June says, my luck had changed, only from good to very, very bad?”

 

Steel shrugged. “I am guessing.”

 

“We also know the plants give their benefactors something, Neal. So when you go and let them have a little energy – which you do whenever you sleep there – they give you a good rest, and perhaps somehow you are aware of this exchange and are creating the demons, because they took your energy and killed you, the first time?”

 

“I never think they are evil, Lira.”

 

“You didn’t think Kramer was evil, either, when you first encountered him,” Mozzie murmured, - then, before Neal could speak, asked, abruptly, “Neal, when have you last studied, or reproduced, or copied a Munch?”

 

Neal glanced at him, confused by the sudden non sequitur. “Munch? – um, I was working on the Lady from the Sea just before you called me to come and look at your maps and diaries about the sailor and the storm. I had just finished. It had been on loan to the MoMA, and Philly was so – distressed, because had it been there it would have been fine. They lost very little! I was thinking about it when I was…um…considering our grandmother, because I wanted to get my brushes and things, and it brought it to mind. And she’s another lovely lady.”

 

“And then you got eaten by the plants.”

 

“Shortly thereafter, yes.”

 

“Well, Neal – _Edvard Munch!_ I knew everything was reminding me of something!”

 

“Yes, Edvard Munch: the Scream, Norway, interesting man, looked a little like Woody Harrelson in some of his portraits…little strange, shall we say?”

 

“The limitations of the average memory!” Mozzie mumbled and Neal argued, “Hey! It’s not enough to be told by June that I am an idiot for confusing ancient poetry and basing my beautifully planned demise on it, now _you_ have to start being rude to me?”

 

“Neal!” June protested. “I never called you an idiot. I said you were basing your decision on possibly wrong ideas!”

 

“And if you wanted sympathy, you should have just let your father have his way!” Moz grinned, then leaned forward and made declaratory movements with both hands, very obviously going into Lecturer Mode: “Munch. Remember: born into poverty of an obsessively pious father who charmed his young children during their formative years with readings of Edgar Allan Poe…not what you or I would consider bedtime stories for little ones.”

 

“Yes…” Neal agreed, not understanding.

 

“He is reputed to have said of his father, ‘From him I inherited the seeds of madness. The angels of fear, sorrow, and death stood by my side since the day I was born,’ and his father was disappointed in him and tried everything he could to stop him painting, including, we believe, destroying some of his work.

         “He kept his children in line by telling them their dead mother was watching from Heaven and would be very grieved by their behaviour!”

 

“How mean!” June gasped.

 

“I would really rather you beat me _hard_ than do that,” Neal whispered into Steel’s ear, who hugged him closer with his one arm.

 

"Silly!" Lord Steel said to him.

 

“Edvard said that he always had premonitions of disaster and death approaching him, and certainly his siblings and the family in general suffered terrible – let us call it bad luck!

“Then, he came under the influence of a nihilist who believed that destruction was also a – I think he called it a ‘creative passion’ and who advocated suicide as the ultimate freedom…” Mozzie diverted easily into English, “and I remember Bill Maher saying that suicide was the way to tell God, ‘You can’t fire me, I quit!’ – that’s besides the point, but rather amusing!”

 

“That was Jaeger, wasn’t it? The anti-establishment bloke who continued the work of driving poor Edvard a little crazy? I’m beginning to see similarities to my situation!” Neal told him, one eyebrow raised.

 

“Now, now, don’t be spiteful!” Mozzie told his friend. “I never advocated suicide, though I might intensely dislike Big Pharma, Big Oil, Big Sugar, Big Aspartame, Big Box Stores and Big, faceless Government…all of which are now defunct! We win!

         “To continue, mon frère, once Jaeger and then his father died, and he returned to completely care for what was left of his family, he is said to have mourned, ‘I live with the dead—my mother, my sister, my grandfather, my father…Kill yourself and then it's over. Why live?’ "

 

“Sounds like the Scream was an exact depiction of his mood at the time!” June commented. She preferred more uplifting paintings.

 

“I’m beginning to see what you mean, Mozzie,” Neal said, his eyes round. “It is weird.”

 

“Oh, we haven’t got to the best of all his quotes, and I am sure you’ve heard of this one and subconsciously remember it, Neal – I am sure! If I believed in reincarnation, and I don’t say I don’t, and I don’t say I do, because I have never really studied it and reading the musings of others is no way to make up one’s mind about such things as that, I would at this moment believe you were Munch reborn! I would!”

 

“What’s the quotation, Mozzie, dear,” June asked.

 

“Oh, sorry, I got side-tracked.

"Munch said, ‘From my rotting body, flowers shall grow and I am in them and that is eternity.’ ”

**“ _What!”_ ** Neal exclaimed. “Say that again!”

 

Mozzie helpfully did.

 

Neal just stared at him.

 

“He also wandered through a great many styles, struggled to find his own, would have been a good forger, if he wasn’t,” carried on Mozzie. “And did some truly gorgeous pieces.

         “And so you don’t get carried away thinking he was downtrodden and dark and ‘Nevermore-ish’ and then died young and pitiful, he lived – despite his ongoing poor health he survived the pandemic Spanish ‘flu of 1918, he seemed to grow stronger – and he did a great deal of work. When the Nazi’s took over Norway he was in an upstairs apartment with practically his whole collection. He was terrified they would find him, because most of his stuff would have been destroyed, as many modernists were, of course.

         “Not only did they never find his hoard, when he died – age 80, Neal, and no Chiri to help – the Nazi’s, for unknown reasons, gave him a funeral. Perhaps they thought he looked German, I do not know!

         “Only eleven of his paintings remain lost and were probably burnt. Seventy-one were taken by the Nazi’s, but were bought back and brought to Norway by collectors. Munch’s work is represented in museums around the world…not only that, after the ‘Cultural Revolution’ ended, his was the first work, of any Western artist, exhibited in the National Gallery in Beijing.”

         Mozzie took a deep breath. “So if you want to imitate Munch, you have to live till at least 80 and be very well-thought-of and successful, even if you, as he did, go through some morbid and dark days!”

 

There was a complete silence. June grinned. Mozzie had that effect on conversation sometimes.

 

Neal was thinking hard. Mozzie grinned across at his friend – he could practically see the steam coming out of Neal’s ears! Neal asked, “You think somehow, because I was thinking about The Lady from the Sea, and our grandmother and then – and then I got taken by the flowers…?”

 

“Yeah,” Mozzie said, gleefully, “first the flowers ate you, then you got Munched!”

 

Neal’s head came up and he glared. “You did **_not_   **just say that! You told me that whole long story just to get that line in?”

 

“No, just came to me! Perfect, right?”

 

“I tell him I want to die and he brings flowers and puns,” moaned Neal.

 

“It’s a good pun! A remarkably apt and clever pun!”

 

Neal made a touché flick of his fingers and Mozzie chuckled.

But Neal went on, “I‘ll give you both hell-lessness and my thoughts getting tangled with a dead and rather gloomy Norwegian - ”

 

“I think someone who calls the man who created the Scream – not once, but four times!” June argued, “ – merely ‘gloomy’ is being overly buoyant!”

 

“And his works keep getting stolen, but apart from the wartime losses, they are always bought and returned,” Mozzie said. “Which from Munch’s point of view is a very nice thing. And – er – from the thief’s point of view an ongoing revenue stream. Or could have been.”

 

Neal looked hard at Mozzie’s expression of total innocence, then decided it was a line of enquiry to be followed at a later time. “You’re distracting me…all this doesn’t address one of the reasons I became so sure I had to commit suicide. These terrible…premonitions, dreams, visions – they’re very real. _Very!”_

 

“Lira?” Mozzie turned to her. “Is Neal physically well? Blood sugar falling too low can, I believe, result in just the sort of nightmares that Neal is describing.”

 

Lira said, “Neal already asked. Not only can I not find anything wrong by cursory and quick look, but I can not feel any negative or evil entities of any sort around you. I would like to have some time alone with you, Neal.”

 

“So there are such things? Ghosts, goblins, demons and evil wizards?”

 

Lira smiled. “There are so many different beings in the universes, Mozzie, even the Chiri have not met them all – but there are certainly evil beings of all sorts. You have met some of them! Many of them, if your stories are to be believed!”

 

June chuckled.

 

“So real they are not. Which, sadly, helps _me_ not because they certainly feel so.” Neal sighed. “Now I feel that suicide by plant is not the right thing to do, but if get some sleep I do not…”

 

“Many people long to have lucid dreams,” Mozzie said.

 

“They are welcome to mine!” Neal snarked. “Send ten dollars plus shipping and handling and a self-addressed envelope...”

 

“Wait a minute!” Mozzie went blank behind his glasses, then asked, “You’ve heard of the dreamers of Malaya? The – Senoi, that’s it!”

 

Neal shook his head wearily. “Mozzie – no. I think that I have not.”

 

“You should read more,” chided his friend and one-time mentor. “I have read some papers and, while I hesitate to quote anything done by scientists I do not know, and about something as subjective as dreaming or its effects on society and culture…I think this may be useful.”

 

Neal felt he might throw something at Mozzie if he didn’t make his point! Moz saw it and relented. “The Senoi had a very happy, stable, non-violent culture. (Not sure now. People from the West have visited and probably hope to ‘civilise’ them, give them schools and vaccinations and shoes.) There were reasons to believe it was because of their attitude to dreams. Every morning the tribe would share their dreams. They gave them value. Therefore, they dreamed more often and more vividly – or remembered them. They all had lucid dreams. They got inventions, dances, songs, from their dreams…”

 

“Mozzie, get on, I really can’t feel…” Neal slipped into English.

 

“I hear you! But the important part for you might be their attitude to their children!”

 

“Oh?” Neal said, and yawned.

 

“You listening, Neal? Well, all children have dreams of falling that terrify them, all children dream of monsters chasing them.”

 

Neal looked at him.

 

“If a child told of a falling dream, he was immediately praised and told that the next time he had it he would turn the falling into flying, and start having flying dreams!”

 

“And the monsters, Mozzie?” Steel asked, tightening his hold on Neal who felt as though he might fall asleep – and fall! – or might lean over and ding his brother!

 

“The children are told that the monsters have a gift for them, and the next time they have the dream they must stop running, turn and demand their gift from the monsters. They might get a new invention or song, or something.”

 

“But how do I change the dream?”

 

“You are having _lucid_ dreams! You’re aware in them! And you’ve changed dreams before, haven’t you? Ordinary dreams?”

 

“Ye-es,” agreed Neal. “When they get too boring or there’s a nasty character – yeah, I have.”

 

“Well, when you have this dream, remember me telling you this and don’t run – confront the monsters.”

 

“And if they eat me?”

 

“That will make it, as you called it once, the perfect trifecta: flowers, Munch, monsters. Third time the charm, and you don’t need to worry about the flowers, or the dream, or your Lord, there!”

 

“That’s an anti-perfect trifecta!” Neal muttered. “It should have started with the monsters and ended with the flowers!”

 

“Moan, moan, moan!” Mozzie grinned.

 

Neal looked around at many of his nearest and dearest people in the whole…universe. He pouted a little. “Know you how long I struggled with my decision and worked out a perfect plan to avoid eternal fires and every lesser curse, and you, beloveds, spent the last – I do not know, candlemark or two? – dismantling it piece by piece until I have nothing.”

 

“That,” Mozzie said in English, “is what friends are for!”

 

“At least, dear one, if your conclusion is suicide we will dismantle it if we possibly can. It is completely selfish on our parts: we don’t want you to disappear. And though your plan was elegant and would have worked, you did forget to factor in our misery, you know, which seems, sorry to criticize, a little selfish in itself?”

 

Neal stood, squeezing Steel’s hand as he did so, and went to June and knelt by her chair and hugged her. “It isn’t as though I wanted to leave you, dear. It felt as though I was going to be destroyed anyway, only in some horrible manner and that is what I was trying to avoid.”

 

“Do you feel better now, dear?”

 

“Y-yes. I think I do. I won’t, really, till I vanquish these evil thought forms or whatever they are.”

 

He leaned away from her and they smiled at each other, then he saw that Mozzie, next to June, was holding out his arms invitingly.

 

“Hyakinthos!” Mozzie exclaimed, melodramatically.

 

“Apollo!” Neal answered in kind and they threw their arms around each other.

 

June, Steel and Lira chuckled over this piece of silliness.

 

“Neal,” Lira said, when the two had detached from each other, smiling. “Why do we not go to your rooms and I will sing to you and make sure there is nothing, however small, that is out of harmony.”

 

“And remember what I told you if you have a dream: you are in control!” Mozzie insisted, earnestly.

 

“I’ll try. I never did anything like that before. Thank you all, I _think…_ I really did think I’d come up with the perfect, elegant ending.”

 

“Seldom that neat and pretty, mon frère,” Mozzie grinned at him.

 

Neal got to his feet, went past Steel, patting him on the shoulder, and smiled back at the three of them before following Lira.

 

“He truly is exhausted,” Steel commented, having watched Neal go out, with none of his normal purpose or spring. He turned back. “Thank you both. I would not have had a single argument, since all of that was from your Earth culture. I do not completely understand how he came to such a dark place.”

 

“I told you, Caerrovon,” Mozzie said. “Though people think me a pessimist, seeing all the darkest side of society and trying to avoid it, and Neal as the carefree butterfly, he has suffered so many losses that he has come to expect the worst and especially if his life seems to be going well. I think he might be suffering from what some folks call Generalized Anxiety Disorder. It often leads to lack of sleep, hyper-vigilance – which in Neal’s case could be a good thing, he has been hypo-vigilant, at least in personal relationships - and many other problems that vary from person to person. It can become chronic.”

 

“He is so worried about things going wrong that he is prepared to give up his life that he has now?” Steel asked, distressed. “I thought he was happy here. Lira said he was.”

 

“Yes, he is, and that, Caerrovon, is part of the problem. If he looks back, he had a happy childhood, or imagines that he does, I know not, but out of the blue his father left. He is doing some of the most astounding forgery and theft work and he goes to bring Kate back into his life – and he ends up in prison.

“He thinks he has friends and security with the Suit, Mrs Suit and the FBI, goes out on a thin and bent twig for the Suit, who then turns around and blames him for everything since Watergate – well, cultural reference - he was really mean to Neal. He thinks he has found the love of his life, she turned out to be an assassin who has been using him.

         “Neal is a conman, Caerrovon, and one of the best. Better than I am. I am usually behind the scenes, he is always front and centre. (Though I am good when I have to be.) Who caught your eye at the Slave Market? Neal. Who developed a relationship with you? Neal. Who has been developing friendships with the other Keepers and their families. Neal. He keeps up the façade, because that is what he does and who he is, but it is not all he is and he is worn down, worried that no matter what he does, it is all going to turn to garbage in his hands. I think it is because he feels safe here that he is allowing himself to give way, to crash.”

 

“To die?”

 

“One problem is that he enjoyed dying, Lord Steel – he felt it had solved all his problems,” June sighed. “Then he reasoned that giving the plants his energy was the solution.”

 

“Perhaps he knows we, the people who love him, will help him find his way back.”

 

“I hope you are correct, Mozzie.”

 

“I hope so, too, Caerrovon.”

 

 

 

Lira checked in on Sara, who was still asleep, and by the time she came into Neal’s room he was lying on his bed under a blanket. They didn’t speak, she put her long-fingered hand on his forehead and he smiled wearily. She started to sing and he fell asleep.

 

 

 

( _Sand. I’m walking through sand. Hot and gritty, and my feet are bare. Beach…not a beach. Hot, dry, sand dunes, rust-coloured. Desert...Where am I?_

_(Oh. Oh, no! That’s them again!_

 

_(God, the sand is hot! I can hardly breathe! - It’s so tiring trying to run in this deep sand and they – they seem to find it easy. It feels as though they’re laughing at me. All I can – hear – is my – breathing – and the wind – but I – know – they’re gaining on me –_

 

_( - yeah, they’re closer. I’m giving this everything I got…can’t run any faster. Can’t run – can’t run any more – oh, God, they’re going to get me - ! )_

 

Neal woke, sweating heavily. He was alone in the room. Lira had gone. He lay there, trembling as though all his muscles had been working at the maximum to escape, yet he hadn’t even thrown off the blanket. He did now, he was blazing hot from the effort and the anxiety. Slowly he calmed, remembering the dream and remembering his friends, their input and support, what Mozzie had said.

 

He had no escape route planned now, despite Mozzie’s faith in his extraordinary abilities in that regard! He smiled a little.

 

_The demons I’m trying to escape are hiding within me! For once, Caffrey, there’s no escape. If June’s right, I could still commit suicide by the plants, but what if I end up somewhere where these beings, hideous, terrifying beings, are still chasing me?_

_I have to keep trying._

It was one of the hardest things he’d done, requiring a ridiculous amount of courage to pull up the blanket so he wouldn’t get chilled, and try to go back to sleep.

 

 

_(Water…round my ankles. Stagnant…slimy …smelly…bubbles of gas rising to the surface…it’s hot, humid…big trees…wait, that’s a cypress, Spanish moss…I’m in a swamp, bayou? What…_

_(Oh, God, that’s a dog – they’re chasing me with a dog, or dogs. I can’t outrun a dog! Do I have a weapon? Anything I can use? - Nothing. I have - nothing - got - to - run_

_(I can hear them. I’d better try and find somewhere to hide…get away and climb a tree. The dogs will have a problem because of the water everywhere…why bring a dog? To frighten me? I can feel their hunger – they want to destroy me -_

_(There’s the water, getting deeper – harder to run – make so much noise! – roots – fell again! I don’t think I can run, wrenched my ankle. They’re playing with me! I know they’re just back there – it’s so hot!_

 

_(There they are…how many – six? Seven? – oh, help me, somebody, they’re monsters!  Black, scaly, horns and claws...terrible faces - such hatred! –_

_(I must have done so many bad things for these things to want to kill me, tear me apart – Perhaps I should accept that –_

_(Oh, the foul smell of rotting flesh -_

_(They’re rushing me - )_

 

 

Neal woke again, this time with a desperate cry, and lay panting.

 

_I think I was more aware of it being a dream that time. There was Spanish moss, but it didn’t look right, somehow. God, I hope you’re right about this, Moz. This is worse than Peter…well, they’re far uglier! At least I could sleep while I knew Peter was after me! And it as awful but at least he didn’t tear the flesh from my bones with three-inch-long teeth and claws. And he used breath mints. Most times. I know where that devilled ham got it’s smell from, though!_

_Come on, Caffrey, stop procrastinating! Not going to get any easier!_

 

He punched his feather pillow and fluffed it, got up and threw of his top, which was soaked, straightened the bedding and lay down again, still exhausted. Even as he was drifting into sleep he was afraid.

 

 

( _Snow! Gosh, this just keeps getting better! Perhaps though, I won’t get hot so quickly! Lovely black mountains that look like obsidian, and snow so white …a huge smooth area of snow, perfect, like a tray of marshmallows. Mum used to make marshmallows and pour the mix into a tray and cut them up…looked just like this. Giant’s tray of marshmallows, with diamonds scattered over the surface, glittering in the sun. But cold. Bet it doesn’t taste like marshmallows! Seldom taste in dreams. Odd, that._

_(Should try…perhaps it tastes like snow!_

 

_(Wait…someone’s behind me. There, way back there! It’s them, again! Like pieces of oily black  mountain coming to life…yeah, here we go again. The snow is up to my calves, and it’s cold – going to slow me down. They’ve started towards me..._

_(Gotta run. Gotta try… Too tired…. Gotta try. Teeth and claws._

_(This is too much. They’re gaining and – Mozzie. Mozzie said there was a way – Wait._

_(This is a dream._

_( I’m stopping._

_(They’re going to get me if I run and I refuse to have them hound me out of my dream one more time!_

 

_(Mozzie said something – and if they kill me right here, in the middle of this lovely lake of snow, well, wow – I can imagine! Peter’ll get an aerial photo taken from a chopper…blazing white all around with a patch of disturbance at the end of a trail – Vermillion, blending out to the palest pink. Keep it’s colour because of the cold…Make a great painting…’End of the Trail’ or something…semi-abstract…_

 

_(Peter. Mozzie. Wait, that’s what Mozzie said, this is a dream. Is it a dream? Can I taste the snow?_

 

 _(It’s a risk, they’re coming – it’s not snow. It’s marshmallow!_    Neal turned, faced the monsters…and they didn’t jump on him, maul him. They stopped, too.  They stood there, some of them slavering from huge fangs, eyes red all around, two at least had long tails like dragons', spiked and scaled. Each hand, some with three fingers, some four, some five, had long, curved claws or talons. Neal could smell sulphur and other malodours emanating from them. But their expressions of anticipation and rage slowly changed to confusion. They seemed increasingly uncertain. Neal felt a little more confident.

 

(“Okay. You aren’t real. You’re in my dream. And because you’re in my dream and you’ve been chasing me you have to give me a gift. In fact, it’s the rule – you _each_ have to give me a gift. A _valuable_ gift! At least one!”

 

(The monsters looked at each other. The tallest one, with the longest claws, slowly turned into Peter. The next into James. To his left a red-toothed demon turned into Rebecca. The rest – Adler, Diana, Kramer, Mozzie – “Mozzie?” All the demons were smiling.

 

(“We have gifts for you, Caffrey,” Diana said. “We need to make things right.”

 

(“And you, Moz? You never did anything that hurt me. You have nothing to put right.”

 

(“I’m just here,” Mozzie said, waving a very Mozzie-finger in the air, “to vet the gifts, to make sure there are no razor blades in the caramel!”

 

( _Even in dreams…!_

 

(“I wanted to apologise, Neal,” James said, stepping forward, “for abandoning you when you were little. For disappointing you when you were grown. I can’t change it, the past, but you need to know what I did – everything I did – none of it was your fault. That is my gift to you. You need never feel guilty or inferior. You were just a little boy and should have been cared for and loved, and I failed you in that. I see what you've become and I am so proud of you. I never stopped loving you." He smiled his lovely smile, and despite all his memories, Neal smiled back. James made a little gesture of goodbye with his fingers, and turned, walked away…and vanished.

 

(“I wanted to tell you how much you changed me, my life, Caffrey,” Diana laughed. “You taught me how to look at more sides to every problem, and every person. I was sometimes hard – a little hard – on you. You made me love you, trust you. Most of the time! You helped me. I will never think of anyone as one-dimensional ever again. You have the ability to get inside people - for good or bad - and you can help people, and that's my gift to you. Thank you.”

 

(She also turned and walked away into nothingness.

 

(Adler looked embarrassed. He shifted his shoulders and said, “That con you pulled. That first con – it was magnificent, especially considering your age. I was taken in until the last moment. I wanted you – I wanted to groom you to be my right-hand man. You were playing me – successfully. It made me mad. You made me care! It made me mean, later on. I wanted to tell you, to apologise. That's my gift to you, to let you know how admirable your work is.” Before Neal could formulate a response, a thought, the man turned away, confident, even cocky, even in the dream, and disappeared.

 

(Kramer glanced across at Peter and then looked at Neal. “I was a bastard. Worse than Alder. You didn’t deserve how I treated you. I tried to put Peter off you, put him against you, tried to manipulate the system to get you – I understood your worth, but never your humanity. Considering all that I did, you probably can’t forgive me, but I need to apologise. My gift to you is letting you know that it wasn't about you, and it wasn't a failure on your part - or Peter's. I rigged the game.”

 

(Neal watched him go and fade and hoped he’d never see that face again, even though it hadn’t been covered in oily smugness this time!

 

(Rebecca – Rachel – walked a single step in his direction. She smiled sadly. “I came into your life to play _you_ , Neal. You could get me what I wanted…whatever the big score was! If things had been a little different, you could have truly given me what I wanted - love, a home, children. If there’d been a way out. A way out of Hagen, the con and my past - a way out without being put in prison, away from you...you might have saved me, Neal. Please don’t think it was all a con. It stopped being a con when you told me the truth and – and loved me, at least a little. Thank you, Neal. I never remember feeling as loved as I did with you. It just was doomed from the start and lasted such a short time. I’m asking you not to hate me. I would never have done that to you if I’d known who you were, who we might have been. My gift is my love for you, and letting you know how special you are, how loveable, that you broke through a hard shell of callousness I had been living with for too many years.

(“I still wish you’d come with me, with the diamond. It gives me something to dream about!”

 

(She smiled that pretty smile, and before Neal could stop her, she was gone.

 

(Neal looked at Peter with some apprehension. But this was the Peter who had told him he’d help him, the Peter who’d held him as he sobbed for Kate, the man with the soft brown eyes and the loving heart. There was no mocking or criticism in his tone. He smiled a one-sided smile with that archery-bow mouth that was the hardest thing to capture in a portrait, to _not_ turn into caricature…

         (“I let others define you to me, too often – Kramer, for one. I am sorry. I was very unfair, trying to keep my distance and my objectivity and still use your closeness and loyalty – I was selfish, Neal. Cruel. I told you that you were a criminal, then turned and encouraged you to commit criminal acts when it suited me! You didn’t deserve that. I wanted to apologise, but mostly to tell you – you don’t need to be a criminal. You don’t need to steal, or con, or forge. You’re a brilliant man and you can do anything.

(“I said you were a criminal, I said you were nothing but a con and would never be anything else. I said you weren’t worth the effort. That was just spite, because I didn’t know how to handle you! You’re outstanding at everything you do.

(“Here’s the thing – I kept nearly loving you and realising – or believing – how disastrous that would be, and pulling back, not caring if I hurt you. Like Rebecca, I wish we’d met under different circumstances. Just wanted to let you know, apologise - ”

 

(“Nice caramel, - but there’s the deadly blade!” Mozzie interrupted, and Peter turned and looked at him with that confused, perplexed, disbelieving look that he kept especially for Mozzie. “Look, _Suit, -_ and Neal – Neal is not just a conman, or a forger or a thief, or any of the million skills you can’t even appreciate and thankfully never found out about! Yes, he doesn’t _need_ to do any of those things.

         (“ _However_ , that does not mean he is constrained _in any way_ from taking part in such activities, for which he is so well-suited (sorry, Neal, poor word-choice, the suiting never rubbed off professionally, and only a little emotionally!) and for which he is so well trained! If he wishes to, of his own volition.

         (“Gosh, am I glad I never went to bed with the Fed! All the confusion it brings!”

 

(Peter smiled down at the back of Mozzie’s head and looked at Neal.  

        (“He’s right. You can choose to be anything. That's my gift to you. With your talents and abilities and heart, you can choose to do and be anything. If you continue – um – allegedly breaking the law, don’t get caught.”

 

(“You’re the only one who ever did, Peter!” Neal said, smiling across the snow at him.

 

(“Yeah. With a little help from your girlfriend! Now if I’d caught you red-handed with the Renoir or the Map of Vinland, even the bonds…that would have had flair! Catching you because you loved some pretty girl – whoever she was – beneath me, really. I’m never going to do that again, I promise. Never going after you.”

 

(“Go away, Peter!” Mozzie instructed, and Peter smiled at Neal, shook his head at Moz, and walked back the way he’d come…Neal watched till he disappeared. Mozzie, meanwhile, walked forward and waved a warning finger. “That last promise from the Suit…dream, remember? Nothing in writing? Don’t bet the farm on _that!”_

 

(“You’re priceless, Mozzie! How did you orchestrate this? And don’t you do a Cheshire-cat imitation, now, leaving me here with only that ridiculously wide grin?”

 

(“No, I don’t need to leave! My conscience is clear. You know I love you…and, stupid, I didn’t orchestrate it – _you_ did!”)

 

 

 

 

 

Neal woke up with a huge grin on _his_ face, all alone in his room. He lay and thought happily for a few moments, then turned over and fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

 

 

 

 

 

End of Chapter 28.

 

And yes, I'd REALLY like comments! Not an easy chapter to write. /p>

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> June's religious research...I know this may not be your beliefs at all, but she is a faith-lady and this theory she is looking into here was what needed for the story line. Please do not be offended. I mean no offence to anyone or their beliefs or lack thereof! It is a valid line of study that some have espoused... and many others hold many alternate views! 
> 
> The “Roanoke Praxis” is a reference to the mysterious disappearance of an entire British colony in Virginia during the Sixteen Hundreds. This disappearance has never been fully explained. The episode Neal refers to - this and his 'heaven is off the table' reference (to which I object!) is from Out of the Frying Pan Season 5.02
> 
> What's the story of the Roanoke colony?  
> Twenty-two years before Jamestown and 37 years before the Pilgrims landed in Massachusetts, Sir Walter Raleigh scouted possible sites for an English colony in North America in 1584. Naming the land Virginia after Elizabeth I, the Virgin Queen, he chose Roanoke Island off the coast of present-day North Carolina. 
> 
> The first attempt to settle there (1585-86) was quickly abandoned. A group of 110 men, women, and children sailed for Roanoke in the following year. The colony's leader, John White, returned to England for additional supplies but did not return until 1590 because of the war between England and Spain. He found no trace of the colonists, and the only message left what the cryptic word "Croatoan" carved on a wooden post.  
> It is most likely that the small settlement was overrun by local tribes, but to this day, no one has explained the meaning of "Croatoan" or found definitive evidence of the fate of the Roanoke colony. 
> 
> Praxis is merely a practical application...in this case one of disappearance without trace.


	29. Mostly about Sara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pretty much what the title says!

 

 

 

Neal woke, slowly, peacefully. He had an vast feeling of well-being, a lovely change from how he had been feeling recently! He stretched, feeling all his joints pop, and smiled. Then he remembered – everything. He became aware of being watched, but with none of the terror that had plagued him, the twitching of muscles getting ready to run…he turned over and his smile widened. Steel and Mozzie were standing by his bed.

 

“Hallo, my Lord, Mozzie! Mozzie, you’re brilliant! It worked!

         “Oh, why are you here? Is there a problem? Sara - ?”

 

“Sara is walking the grounds with Diana and Tammy and Theo, having looked at the horses earlier, Neal. Lira is very pleased!” Lord Steel told him.

 

“Oh, that is wonderful news,” Neal said, stretching and yawning again. “Sorry!”

 

Mozzie sat on one side of the bed and Steel sat on the other. Neal struggled to a sitting position.

 

“I have to ask you, Neal,” Lord Steel said, “if you want to retract your letter, kind and beautifully written as it was?”

 

Neal coloured. “I am sorry about that…I wanted to slip away and then only after some time you would find out about me going to the flowers.”

 

“Oh, Mozzie has explained it all to me, how you hoped it would work. Because after a day or a ten-day or two, I would hardly remember your face! A season and I would wonder where all the paintings in your gallery came from!”

 

“He can be a little stupid, Caerrovon, despite his brilliance in some areas,” Mozzie said, confidentially.

 

Neal opened his mouth to argue, then his face relaxed. “I was being stupid. I was too tired to think clearly. Can we explain it that way, my Lord?”

 

“I have had to do without sleep myself on occasion, though not for more than a day and a half or so, and pleasant it is not. I like the letter, Neal, but I would ask that you write a retraction?”

 

“You really want me to as your son? Enough troubles in your life you have not?” Neal grinned.

 

“Not nearly enough! My life seems totally boring, indeed, without two Earthling sons! I know not how I managed before you all invaded my Keep.”

 

“Then you shall have us, my Lord!” Neal told him, and scrambled across the bed and hugged Steel.

 

“And punish him for going to see the plants to find out if they were ready to kill him you can not, Caerrovon,” Mozzie pointed out, earnestly.

 

“I heard you were a lawyer, Moz,” Steel grinned over Neal’s tousled hair.

 

“He always did try and save me from my own foolishness, my Lord. You can ignore him if you choose! Even he likes lawyers very little!”

 

“Well, there are lawyers, and then there is me.”

 

Neal felt his Lord chuckle. “Mozzie,” Caerrovon stated without any doubt in his voice, “in any field that you inhabit, there are the others – and then there is you.

         “And I am not going to condemn Neal for being totally overwhelmed, Moz. Even the threat was made as an attempt to get an explanation from him!”

 

“You should have checked with me first…you should know that threats never work against Neal! They bring out the worst in him.”

 

“Threat - and a promise, if he does it without a good excuse!”

 

“Made a promise to you and broken it before I have not,” Neal said, his blue eyes clear and steady.

 

“I believe you, Neal.” Steel looked down at him. “Is there not a way you could have explained to me, though, what you were going through?”

 

“You heard me when I tried to explain to June and Moz, it was a long explanation even though they understood the cultural context.”

 

Steel nodded. “Next time, son, at least try to do so? At least tell me you are agonizing with something?”

 

“So my plan worked?” Mozzie demanded.

 

“It did indeed. I shall tell you all about it.”

 

“That will have to wait, son. Mozzie and I are travelling to the House for a few days, and we have to prepare.”

 

“Politics!” Mozzie said, his nose in the air.

 

“I am immune because of my youth?” Neal chuckled. “There are benefits! And if anyone can keep that nonsense straight and aboveboard, demanding transparency, it is you, Moz!”

 

“I foresee a happy time ahead!” Steel groaned. “Come, we should be go and discuss our plans, Mozzie.”

 

“Wait! What time is it! How long have I been asleep!” Neal called.

Mozzie stuck his head back in. “It is the day after our discussion, Neal! Just after mid-day meal! I will see you soon!”

He disappeared.

 

“No wonder I’m starving!” Neal muttered to himself and hurried off to shower.

 

Having raided the kitchen and enjoyed the company of everyone there, Neal went off in search of Sara. As he left the building the four were walking towards him.

 

“Hi!” he called and ran across the grass. He jogged all around the group, delighting in the feeling of being well-rested and healthy. It was such a simple thing, such a profound thing! Theo, wide awake, watched him in some surprise.

   
“Hello, little Theo!” Neal said, skidding to a halt and stroking the soft, rounded face. “And hello three of my favourite people!”

         He kissed each one on the cheek, and then frowned a little. “Are you not going with our Lord, Tamlin?”

 

“I am Neal. If they leave before I join them, they will take my horse and I shall just jump to them. They have a wagon for all the clothing and things, and another in case the weather closes in – you see, the clouds are gathering.”

 

“This ‘jumping’ seems a very good idea and very practical,” Sara noted. "Though totally weird and unnatural."

 

“You look fantastic – I’d say back to your old self, but you don’t! You look very ‘Steel Keep’, Sara!”

 

“Tammy lent me her clothes, Neal – and Lucilla took one look at mine and took them off to burn them! I would be insulted if I did not completely agree with her!”

 

“I’m glad. They hardly did you justice before, and _now_ …! – and that light, apple-green suits you! Nice clothing, hmm?”

 

“Very nice. Very soft.”

 

“You look happier, too. Not so scared. June will help us all look after you.”

 

“She was splendid. She went out of her way to make me feel I was doing _her_ a favour, Neal. That’s classy!”

 

“June is a classy lady,” Neal agreed as Diana said, “Yes!” Diana went on, “Neal – _you_ look a great deal better, too!”

 

“Oh, I slept and slept! I feel about five years old!”

 

“Funny, that!” Sara said, grinning lop-sidedly.

 

“Haha,” Neal noted her teasing. “Di, Tam – and Theo – can I have the pleasure of Sara’s company for a while? I’m sure there are a few things you need to do before Tammy goes off to the House.”

 

Diana nodded, seriously, but Tammy gave them away by grinning. “Normally, we can get together whenever we wish, every night – or any time, even if just for a short while, but while I am with the Lord in a strange place, I am extra vigilant,” she agreed. “I miss Diana.”

 

“We are spoilt!” Diana smiled. “We can usually be together. But at least now I get to have Theo all to myself…when you were dead Tammy had him almost all the time other than feedings!”

 

“We shall have to find another Tassin for Steel Keep and then you can take turns. I know Shiral has to stay here as someone for you to connect with,” Neal said, giving Sara his arm.

 

The couple left. Sara turned and said, “You have a great deal to tell me, Neal. People speak of you as being dead, but here you are – they tell me bits and pieces, but there’s so much! Getting loot from Conan the Barbarian…?”

 

“Well, that wasn’t just me, that was the whole team, all of White Collar Division and Mozzie, too! I will wait till we have a lot of time, some winter evening over egg-nog or wine!” Neal took Sara to a bench and they sat. “Sara,” he told her, “in all honesty – and don’t tease! – you look better than I have ever seen you!”

 

“I think you look better…but whether you’ll ever be _good_ … _?_ Diana mentioned that you and Mozzie had created some caves…? Driven Peter crazy?”

 

“We were leveraging our investment, giving it added value.”

 

“You can’t be serious! You cannot compare painting a whole lot of fake caves with putting in a new kitchen.”

 

“Don’t see why not! It was quite a bit of sweat equity, use of advanced talents and skills!”

 

“And driving Peter crazy?”

 

Neal smiled and her breath caught. _God, I should be over him by now!_

“Well, Sara, dear, some perks just come with the job, added benefits! Oh, you should have seen him come huffing up to where I was trying to force myself to do some pop-art, with a newspaper containing a photo of Mozzie. I 'played dumb' for a good ten minutes before ‘getting’ that Mozzie might have done the caves and I might have helped him!”

 

“Diana told me a little about what went down between the two of you – she wasn’t giving away secrets, she just didn’t want me gushing over him to you, after what he did.”

 

“I never told you, it didn’t seem relevant, you were off to the UK and a new job and everything. I’m sorry we lost touch.” The smile vanished and she thought he looked like some solemn alabaster statue. _Artists would pay him a lot to model for them! He is so perfect, if you aren’t worried about your Matisses and Goyas and what-not!_

 

“You really had a bad year, didn’t you?”

 

Neal looked down so she could see very little but his hair. “Yeah, completely. Almost nothing good about it other than you helping me with that great con – which eventually crashed in flames like the original Hindenburg! – and finding out how much I could trust Diana – and getting bought by Steel. Which was after that summer, but a result of it.”

 

“I’m sorry, Neal.” She took his hand and he glanced up, rather surprised. “I heard about the spy who loved you.”

 

“Yeah – they called me James Bonds, had to live up to it!”

 

“You joke, but at the time – breaking up is never easy, let alone finding out someone you love is a vicious killer.”

 

“Oh, Rebecca wasn’t vicious. Cold, calculating and very efficient. And a split personality, because she was kind and loving and funny, or that was the con. It seemed she actually did fall for me!”

 

“Not hard to do,” Sara said. “I have thought about it, since. You lived a lonely life, didn’t you, for years?”

 

“Prison, you mean?”

 

“And then at the FBI with few people trusting you. I thought Peter had started to, but from what Diana said…she’s very much your champion, you know?...and I was just mean to you rather often.”

 

“Sometimes. I’m a criminal, Sara, I expect it.”

 

“Yeah. Got that from me and Peter, didn’t you, expecting people to be mean?”

 

“No. Got that long, long before. Con people into being nice to me, that’s the trick.”

 

“You’re good at that, too!”

 

“Thank you, ma’am!”

 

“If you think anyone who likes you has fallen for your con and never for you, yourself, you’re wrong.”

 

He looked up and the corners of his mouth lifted a little, his eyes smiled at her. “Thank you, Sara, that’s a nice thing to say. I know that Mozzie knows me, and June – and Steel and Tamlin, because they’re both Sensitives.”

 

“I like you, too, Neal. And perhaps Peter was just suffering from PTSD or something, being in prison.”

 

“For such a little while?” Neal scoffed. "Big strong Agent Burke?"

 

“Yeah, Neal, but he never in his wildest dreams – or nightmares – expected to be an inmate! Whereas you must have at least considered prison as a final outcome to your lifestyle? I’m not being mean, I’m just saying you think totally differently to Peter. To you, committing crimes is worth the risk. He tries not to drive over the speed limit.”

 

“You’ve never actually been in a car with Peter Burke, have you? He should have had his license revoked long ago! He can be downright scary and I think it’s only professional courtesy that the traffic police haven’t stepped in on behalf of the Citizens of New York, driving and ambulatory!”

 

“Can he be an agent without a licence?”

 

“Now there’s a thought…never considered it. Be a hindrance, but whether he just wouldn’t be a agent any more…don’t know. He was ASAC for a while, it wouldn’t matter there – but a field agent?

..........“I tried to be his friend for a long while and I’m not going to any more. So…could we talk about something else?”

 

Sara lifted her head and looked around and complied “I still find it difficult to believe I’m on a foreign planet, a huge distance from Earth. It looks so similar…well, more similar in some ways than many foreign countries!”

 

“Partly the ear-bugs. One of the things that is alienating – sorry! – in, say, Greece or China – is that few people speak your language. There’s this huge communications gap.”

 

“But you speak many languages, if I remember correctly.”

 

“Quite a few. That’s one of the reasons.”

 

She grinned. “Hard to con people in China if you don’t speak Mandarin or Cantonese at the very least?”

 

Neal didn’t respond to her teasing, he looked thoughtful. “Actually, I think it’s more than that. Probably what you say is true, but I get by on my words, my brains. Not being able to communicate at least a little is disorientating. More than for the average person who uses those skills less.”

 

Sara watched him. “You aren’t Neal Caffrey, criminal, here. Diana knows the old you, of course, but most people here speak of you with respect and affection. From what I understand, you have been brave and have accomplished things that have helped Lord Steel. He made you his heir, you and Mozzie? He must be a very…unusual man. Alien. Male alien?”

 

“Beings who look like us we all call humans. We’re Earthlings. I suppose everyone here would be Brethshamen or Brethshamites? But we know them by their Keeps: Steel, Betchem, Laffaysham and so on. As his son I went round most of them and made friends, and then collected the dangerous plants, so yes, Mozzie and I did something good there, us and our men.”

 

“Men?”

 

“Joster and Merritt, and a whole bunch of young …warriors. As heirs we are supposed to have a personal man – a valet, body-guard, general factotum. I ended up with two, Mozzie has so far avoided the…inconvenience.”

 

“You have your own slaves?”

 

“They are slaves. I think my Lord Steel still owns them, though…” he said, thoughtfully. “Not sure. They are loyal to me first, however. He doesn't seem to mind.

         “What?” he asked her, smiling.

 

“I seem to have missed a great deal of your life, Neal. A great deal has changed. You’ve changed!”

 

“I have had servants before! Not quite the same, but in India I had a servant girl who looked after me – just my clothes and things, before you ask! – and in South Africa there was a very nice – I guess butler? – who came with the house I rented, and there were a few other servants he controlled – gardener, housegirl. Wasn’t there that long.”

 

“Ah – where, Johannesburg?”

 

“No, Cape Town. Been to Jo’burg. Love the Cape, Garden Route…” he sighed.

 

“So…Cape Province…diamonds?”

 

“You’re so suspicious, Sara! If I'd said Jo'burg, you'd have said, in that same tone, 'Gold?' 

......."I enjoyed the seas, shark-diving – gosh those Great Whites! Have you seen them breach? It is truly awe-inspiring, in the real sense of the word. Pure muscle. The seals, too…but to see something that massive take to the air, from underwater…”

 

“So no diamonds.”

 

“I don’t _always_ have to be trying to steal something!”

 

“Mmm. Notice you haven’t said you weren’t.”

 

Neal laughed.

 

“So being the lord of the manor comes naturally?”

 

Neal looked away. “I enjoy it, if there’s a good relationship, but I prefer my privacy. It’s like freedom, privacy. It was great when we were travelling, having the boys to look after me.”

 

“They’re younger than you?”

 

“Oh, don’t start! I don’t know how many winters they’ve been alive, or how many years old they would be if they’d been born on Earth! But in terms of life experience and…well, cynicism, yes, they’re _much_   younger than I am!”

 

“You say freedom, privacy – but you were a slave, here.”

 

“Shows how much I understood about it. I loved being here, Sara, even as a slave. I still have my slave collar. I wear it on Earth sometimes.”

 

“And this,” Sara fingered the ornament on his shoulder, “is the half-knot that shows you are the heir?”

 

“Yeah. I forget it’s there. I think my collar is more decorative!”

 

“Well, this is better than the anklet!”

 

Neal chuckled. “Long time since I’ve even thought of that!”

 

They were silent for a moment, then Sara said, “You give me hope.” Neal turned to look directly at her. She shrugged. “I had given up, just waiting to die, Neal. I didn’t think there was a future. From what Diana said, and you, on the slave ship you had every reason to think that your life, any sort of quality of life, was over. Yet look at you. You’ve reinvented yourselves – you, Mozzie, Diana.”

 

“But we had help, Sara. The people here – well, you’ve met Steel and Tammy. They made us feel like family, rather than the shackled-whipped-no-choice-slaves we imagine.”

 

“So no ordering about?”

 

“No more – less, I think – than on the average job. I mean work, career, profession – that sort of job.”

 

“And you know this how?”

 

“I worked for the FBI.”

 

“I’ll give you that, Neal!”

 

Suddenly, there was a shout from the building. They both looked over and stood.

         “Better go see what that’s about!” Neal said, again giving her his arm in case she needed steadying. They went to the gateway, and Joster came towards them.

 

“Ma’am,” Joster acknowledged Sara then turned with a huge grin. “Master Neal! Lord Steel wants you to come to the Greatroom, if it is convenient!”

 

“What is it, Joster?”

 

“Secret…no, surprise! It is a surprise!”

 

“If a party it is and telling me you are not, I shall find another man, Joster! Or promote Merritt above you!”

 

“Nah, you would not, Master Neal. And I have Merritt well-trained from babyhood!”

 

“This is the elder of two brothers, Sara. A champion warrior, and my personal man.”

 

“Good-day, Lady Sara,” Joster nodded.

 

“Good-day, Joster,” Sara smiled at the tall, good-looking alien. “I don’t envy you your charge.”

 

Joster recognised that she was joking and smiled. “He can be very challenging at times, Lady Sara, because he is very brave and intelligent.”

 

“Shut up, Joster,” Neal said, as they all walked down the long stone corridors.

 

“Yes, Master Neal.”

 

“And when we are alone, or I am with friends, you _will_ drop the ‘Master’ – please!”

 

“I was unsure of how proper we were to be in Lady Sara’s presence, Neal.”

 

“Not at all. She accused me of theft, once, in a Judgement Gathering.”

 

Joster drew away from Sara, his normal expression darkening.

 

“It is well, Joster,” Neal grinned. “As a matter of fact, I _had_ stolen the painting. Proof she had not and  convicted I was not.”

 

“Still…” Joster eyed Sara sideways.

 

“We have since become friends and she has helped me a great deal,” Neal told him, amused by his loyalty. “And it was a magnificent theft, quite magnificent.”

 

“Well, of course, Neal!” Joster nodded. “Imagine it otherwise I can not.”

 

“You, ‘Master Neal’, are corrupting the alien youth!” Sara laughed.

 

“I do my best wherever I am and with whatever raw material there is to hand,” Neal said, smiling at her and Joster. “But these boys are almost incurably honest!”

 

“I am sorry, Neal!” Joster said, so seriously that Sara laughed.

 

“Well, you are a great help in other ways, so I will let it slide!”

 

 

 

They reached the Greatroom and there was quite a large group of people there. Neal saw his Lord and the men and women parted so that he might approach him. Next to Steel was a large, covered solid object. Neal saw Lira and guessed, “She has come?”

 

“She is here, Neal – all due to your bravery!” Steel agreed.

 

“No forging necessary,” Diana told him, giving him a hug. “No, don’t look like that – I’m a great detective, after all!”

 

“Yes – but you say it as though it’s a _good_ thing, Diana!”

 

Diana and Sara laughed, and Mozzie and June came over, beaming with pride. Mozzie said, “You’ve proved yourself as the Earth’s greatest forger and copier, Neal! This demanded a different talent.”

 

“Yes, but - !”

 

“Shh! Will you do the honours, Neal?” Steel asked. “Shall we take her up to the gallery?”

 

“Yes! There is room there!” Neal nodded. “I prepared a place for her to live, Lord Steel, nearest your room. You will see her as you enter that area, every morning.”

 

Most of the company trouped up to the gallery, but Lira jumped there and was waiting for them with the large, framed portrait covered by linen embroidered with the Betchem and Steel Keep colours. Neal and Mozzie carefully hung the frame on the prepared attachments and turned to Steel.

 

“Give her some light that everyone might admire the artist’s brilliance,” Steel told them, his smile very wide and happy. They untied the ribbons holding the linen in place and tugged it off the front, exposing the beautiful painting. Everyone who had not seen her gasped, and Sara’s mouth fell open. She had dealt with some of the Earth’s greatest artwork and this was easily as good as anything she’d seen.

 

“Surely this occasion demands some wine!” Mozzie insisted. “Your son bringing your mother home, Caerrovon?”

 

“Indeed, Mozzie!” Steel nodded. “How could I forget – oh, I did not!” This as several of the younger slaves from the kitchen brought trays of wines and glasses. Steel insisted on toasting Neal’s bravery and brilliance – and Mozzie’s, too – and to Sara’s trained, bounty-hunter eye, Neal became very uncomfortable, so he relented and let everyone admire his mother and the work of the artist who had captured her beauty so well.

 

Sara just watched Neal in his new environment and found that her eyes were moist. He had come such a long way, and not just physically! He had found a home and people who loved and trusted him: What he’d always wanted. June and Mozzie hugged him, Steel had his arm resting on Neal’s shoulder, Tammy and Diana kissed his cheek.

 

Neal and Mozzie went off to do something mysterious – those two were still the same in that regard! – taking June along with them and the other Steel Keepers, having admired the painting, went off to do what they needed to do – except the Lord. Sara walked over- _how odd that feels, just to be able to walk! –_ and stood next to him.

“She’s very beautiful, your mother. The technique is superb, also.”

 

The tall Lord looked down at her and smiled. “You know my son well?”

 

“Yes, quite well. As well as he lets anyone know him, perhaps – Neal, that is. I know Mozzie a great deal less.”

 

“Then you know Neal’s chosen profession on Earth?”

 

Sara almost smiled. “Neal Caffrey – and many other people who looked quite similar but had different names – was a crook. World-class thief, forger, conman.”

 

“Then you perhaps will understand that he is a little irritated to be given this in thanks for his outstanding very-near-fatal bravery and sacrifice when he had a vast desire to see if he could forge it and steal this original.”

 

They laughed. Sara took a closer look at the portrait. “Wonder if he is that good. This is unusual work.”

 

“Not only that, but the man who owned it – the Lord of the most powerful and largest Keep on the planet in terms of manpower – is highly sensitive, empathic.”

 

“Neal was bored.”

 

Steel chuckled. “He gets bored and plans the most dangerous things to keep himself occupied… death, in various forms, going against a huge armed force, vampire plants…”

 

“He has always loved a challenge!”

 

Steel looked down at her. “I could wish they involved less personal danger to himself.”

 

“Mmm. Peter – you did know Peter, didn’t you? – he felt the same. When Neal was with him it was not only the danger of injury or death but prison, also.

         “Mozzie is not the same.”

 

“No, they are very different. Mozzie becomes involved in dangerous exploits, to my knowledge, to help friends – usually Neal!”

 

“I am so glad he has found you, Lord Steel. I wanted to thank you for my health, my life back, but I see the difference in Neal. There have been very few people who have accepted him and loved him despite his…hobby?”

 

“Hobby! I suppose if he took up riding he would be trying to best the planet’s most dangerous trick riders! If he took up swordsmanship he would have to defeat the best of the best in a fight to the death! (Except that it would be Leran, Joster or myself and he likes us!)

         “All I did was provide a venue for your healing, Sara. The Chiri give of their time and abilities freely.”

 

“…And made Neal, Mozzie and Sally, all paranoid on our planet – feel it was safe to bring me here!”

 

Steel smiled a little. “I am not sure how that happened. We treated them just the same as anyone else, and they responded…well, Neal and Mozzie, of course. Sally appeared later.”

 

“You do not, Lord Steel, invite everyone to be your sons and heirs!”

 

“That is true.” She noticed that he became a little disquieted. “I do not know how much you know of Neal. He was so…receptive, so responsive to being treated well. He trusted me enough to play pranks on me! Me, the Lord of the Keep! He treated me as a normal person, and trusted me to do the same to him, without being at all disrespectful. And their brilliance, creative thinking and bravery has already shown that I made the right choice.”

 

“His…hobby?...made him an expert at reading people, Lord Steel. And you are very different to our – Earthlings? – image of a lord and slave owner. I can imagine you were a pleasant surprise to Neal, Peter and the rest.”

 

“Not so much Peter!” the Lord made a comical face and Sara opened her eyes in surprise. “You may well see him again, Sara. Ask him how pleasant he found it to be a slave!

         “Whereas Neal seems to find security here…even as a slave.”

 

“It all seems a little too much for me, Lord Steel. I was stuck in such a circumscribed environment for a long while and now, even my friends are different!”

 

Steel placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Mozzie and I are going to the House – the Seat of Government here. It is one of the less delightful aspects of being a Lord! I think you should go home to your planet with Neal and become settled, Sara.”

 

“I am not being rude about your lovely home and all your people, Lord Steel! I find it fascinating, but I seem to tire so easily!”

 

“One thing at a time! Your planet has changed, your life has changed. When you are ready, and your future feels more secure, you are quite welcome to return. I am sure Neal will bring you if you wish.”

 

Sara turned to look into his face. “Neal was not wrong about you, Lord Steel, and this is very different to the way Earth had become before the wars. Thank you! I think you have given me good advice!”

 

 

So after Mozzie and Steel and their retinue had left, Neal, June and Sara said good-bye to Ophera and Leran and the rest and Neal said to the women, “It is so pleasant to travel with two such gorgeous ladies. Are you both ready?”

 

“I think I preferred it when you gave me no option and just did it! You’re sure it’s safe, Neal?” Sara looked around and then searched his eyes for the truth.

 

“My dear,” June said, “Mozzie and Neal – oh, and sometimes Tammy – have taxi-ed me back and forth across however many light-years this is a great many times! We have always landed safely.”

 

“Well, so far!” Neal teased. “You just never know!”

 

“That is not funny, Neal!” Sara told him. “I was never very good with _flying_ , where I could see the machine I was flying in!”

 

“But aeroplanes are very safe, Sara, and this is safer because there is no time to crash!” Neal told her, and, since they both had their hands on his forearms anyway, he jumped to June’s foyer.

 

“Oh!” Sara said, taking a step to balance herself.

 

“I always used to do that!” June said. “It was always a safe landing, but I felt a little disorientated. That’s why I prefer to let one of the others take me. I could certainly do it if they weren’t here, I am sure but – well – it gives me another reason to get them to come and see me!”

 

Neal kissed her cheek. “We do get involved in other things, sometimes, dearest. If you ever feel lonely, just call – us, or perhaps Tammy, and she will let us know. Nothing is more important than you or our other dear friends, though there may be times we cannot come right away!”

 

“You are still speaking Sheel!” Sara pointed out, then, “Oh! I have stolen an ear-thingy-translator.”

 

“Ear-bug. That’s all right,” Neal reverted to English. “Both mine and Mozzie’s reproduced, so there are extras.”

 

“They’re alive?” Sara said, in horror, and the other two laughed.

 

“We had the same reaction!” June told her. “I don’t think they’ve done us any harm…none that we’ve noticed!

         “I am going to shake up the help and get some coffee and something – pancakes, Neal, Sara?”

 

“Coffee would be lovely!” Neal told her.

 

“And I could manage a pancake or two. Being healed seems hungry work!” Sara laughed.

 

“Go show Sara her room, Neal. And soon, Sara, as soon as you want to, we’re going shopping! You need – well, everything!”

 

Neal took Sara to the elevator and they went up to her room. June had made the bed, put flowers in vases, it was a large, pretty suite of rooms.

         “Oh, this is lovely!” Sara said, her eyes lighting up. “Steel Keep was very comfortable, considering it’s whole medieval huge-stone-battle-castle feel! But this feels like a _home!”_

Neal fingered the pretty ruby-red bedspread. When he spoke his voice was low and full of emotion.

         “I met June in a thrift store. She was selling Byron’s clothing. I had just been released into Peter’s custody and he’d dumped me at this motel…God, it was awful, Truly, it made my six by eight cell seem like a palace, especially in the cleanliness department. Going from a normal life to prison was a terrible shock, you know, but thinking I was going to get a life back and ending up in that motel…” he blew out a small puff of air.

         “…but Peter had said if I found something better, to take it, and – and when I spoke to June - ” he swallowed. “Peter thought – probably still thinks – I conned that dear, sweet lady downstairs. I probably would have. I was that desperate. Here’s the thing, Sara – I didn’t have to.

              ....... “When I walked into that upstairs suite…she’d come home first, sent the car to the motel for me, I had all the stuff Peter’d given me as ‘homework’. He liked to make me feel like his ward, his property, as though I was a child. Anyway, the room was filled with light. The bed had white Broderie anglaise linens on it, a big fluffy duvet. There were white and dark blue towels in that pretty, clean, marble bathroom.  

               “It was as though she hadn’t set it up for a convict on a work-release into Federal Custody, she’d set it up for a prince! She expected me to appreciate it, to treasure it, to care for it.”

 He glanced up at Sara who had never seen Neal like this. This was _Neal_. She hardly dared breathe lest she break the spell!

He went on, “I showered three times…and she’d put enough towels there for me to do it. I didn’t know how she knew…but of course, Byron…I didn’t feel good enough, clean enough to sit on the chairs, let alone climb into that bed. You know, I see people go into their bedrooms in a movie or a TV show, and throw themselves on their beds in all their dirt. I’ll never be able to do that, not ever…

........“When I climbed into that soft, white bed, it was as though June had – you’ll laugh – given me back my innocence. My virginity. As though I’d never done a bad thing, not one. As though she was telling me that she saw me that way.

..........“I’ve never asked about Byron, whether she did the same for him, it seemed too personal. That’s why I would do anything for June. If anyone ever tries to hurt her - !”

Sara went over to him and put her arms around him. “And then Steel did the same, didn’t he?”

Neal shuddered in her hold, and she tightened her grip. “Yeah. Not the white duvet-cover, but seeing the three of us dirty, desperate slaves as people. Yeah. I didn’t equate the two, but yeah, you’re right.” He pulled her into a hug. “Clever Sara!”

Then he let her go and laughed. “Peter thought I was going to con Steel, as well, asked if he was a mark. And again, didn’t have to.”

 

“Not many people that good-hearted,” Sara said.

 

“No. Wonder how I’d have turned out if I’d met June and my Lord earlier.”

 

“Oh, I think you’re turning out just fine!” Sara smiled.

 

“Sorry, just seeing what June’s done for you…I seem to be all emotional lately!”

 

“You want to talk about it?”

 

Neal smiled, and this was a bright, cover-it-all-up smile. “I’m fine, Sara! Don’t worry about me!”

Once upon a time, Sara would have joined his con, put up her façade and laughed a little brittle laugh and nodded and said, “There’s nothing ever wrong with Neal Caffrey, boy wonder!” or some other scoffing remark.

This time she just looked at him, solemn. His smile faded a little. She said, quietly, “I think you are fine, or getting that way. I don’t think it’s bad that you feel you can let yourself show your emotions more honestly, instead of always having to hide them for the sake of the con. But don’t backslide, Neal!

.........“I know I probably was one of the people you had to hide from, before, before I left, before the wars. I’m sorry about that. You came and took me and got me healed. I can’t begin to tell you what that means to me.”

 

“Come on, Sara, almost anyone would have done what we did for you! It was easy.”

 

“You had to trust me. You had to trust that I would keep your secret and not go blabbing that you can ‘jump’ or that there is another planet…”

 

“Pretty safe, actually! You wouldn’t want people to think you were crazy!”

 

“So Steel…you’re his heir, also his son. So in many ways he did take over from Peter…the slave collar for the anklet, one man trying to make you his son to another who actually managed it!”

 

Neal laughed. “He’s much more a father to me, in so many ways! He put the slave collar on…and it’s beautiful, I must wear it for you, it's like jewellery…but he took it off when he made me his son. I had to request that I keep it. And he has a few rules he likes me to keep, it’s true, but do you know how he’s looked after me? He ‘forced’ me to go to University, he ‘forced’ me to paint, he’s always there when I need to talk – and can talk to him.

.........“We stole from his wagon of loot, we stole – I can’t even guess! – _barrels_ of wine! We took over rooms without his permission, I broke into his suite – that was an accident, but he could have had me executed for that!”

 

“He never punished you for all this crime?”

 

“Oh, the last one he did…he made me sleep on the floor with his dogs! And he made us show him the blueprints we were making of his Keep. Mozzie was…displeased with me!”

 

“You had fun.” Sara was smiling at him, the old Sara.

 

“Scads of fun! We have – all of us, but especially Mozzie and me – we have been a lot of trouble.”

 

“Especially Mozzie and you!”

 

“But not exclusively! Diana and Jones brought the Military to Steel Keep! We had nothing at all to do with that! Peter led the expedition to blow up the Slaver’s warehouse! Well – Um – Mozzie actually did the blowing, but we were all okay with it!”

 

“Steel said you and Mozzie were creative and brave…I think he’s the brave one!”

 

Neal laughed his small, acknowledging laugh.

 

Sara came over and put her hand on his arm, a gesture of affection. Neal put his fingers over hers and she said, “You really have found someone to love, you and Mozzie.”

 

Neal’s smiled was warm as he nodded.

 

 

Neal’s ear-bug told him that June was ready and waiting in his studio, so he and Sara walked up the stairs (“I really feel fine, Neal!” she said,) and the three of them stood and looked out over the brightening lights of Manhattan against the orange and pink sunset.

 

“Best view on two planets!” June boasted.

 

“It is!” Neal agreed. “Well, the best urban view!”

 

Sara walked a little further onto the balcony. She smelt the air of New York and wondered if every city had that distinctive smell, if a blind person could tell where he was just by that. It smelt different from London, but it also smelt different from the New York she remembered. The light breeze felt cleaner, perhaps colder, and there were a lot less lights. Then she turned and looked back at Neal and June.

 

They stood close enough to touch. Just that comfortable in each other’s space! Both were reveling in the lights and their home, and each other. Neal had his hands deep within his pockets and, though she couldn’t hear it, he might have been humming.

 

This was truly a different aspect of Neal, and it almost scared her a little. The old, criminal conman, always ‘on’, had stolen her heart despite her best efforts to the contrary – with much more ease than he’d stolen that blasted Raphael!

 

Now he had people who loved him and trusted him, and he loved and trusted them. There had always been a core authenticity to Neal: he had never been the slick conman at his heart, it was an armor he used against getting hurt. And the con always worked because just beneath the surface there was a real person, finding real things to weave into the con: happiness, excitement, affection, tears, smiles and solemnity.

 

Now that armor, when it was there at all, was thinner and more transparent.

 

_He’s comfortable within himself, now. He’ll always go back to faking it if he’s put under pressure, because that’s what we all do, we all hide behind a million masks. But I think he’s more authentic than anyone else I’ve met, now, with the possible exception of some aliens and June!_

_Yet that thing between us…that was a very long time ago. It seems forever ago! We have both been through so much. He’s grown, but I think I’ve been stunted. Perhaps – just perhaps – we would have managed to be a couple before. I’m not sure it would be possible now, or fair on him._

_I think it has become imperative, Miss Ellis, to stay away from one Neal Caffrey, because if he was hard to resist as a crook, a fake, he’ll be impossible for me to resist now as this hero-prince-nice-guy-heir-to-a-Keep, the smiles in those London-blue sapphire eyes honest and sincere._

_I have a home – a beautiful, elegant home with lovely friends, and chance to rebuild my future. I shouldn’t be greedy, disappointed because it is not going to come with a built-in Prince Charming!_

 

Sara sighed.

 

June turned. “Come on, now, the coffee and pancakes will get cold, even in these nice thermal dishes and covers Mozzie brought me last Christmas! And I’m hungry. I love Steel Keep and all those nice people, and the food is good, but I always miss Earth food!”

 

"And I am starved for Italian Roast, June! Come, Sara, it's getting cold out there!"

 

Sara walked in, and smiled.

 

 

 

 

 

The End of Chapter 29.

 

I think I have proved the whole coincidence/miracle thing...did I not have Neal say that Sara could have been a great dominatrix? If you saw the latest Forever 'The Ecstacy in the Agony', she was beautiful and ...very believable! Glad you've got more work, Hilary!

 

Comments, good or bad, always welcome!

 

 

 

 

 

 


	30. The Women in my Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal and women. And shopping.

 

 

 

Sara slept that night as though she hadn’t slept for years, at least without the singing of Lira! Before that, though she had slept, it was always drug-assisted, and never very restful. Here she was comfortable, she felt safe, she was completely free of pain! She felt at home. June was downstairs in her suite, Neal was upstairs in his.

 

They gathered on the balcony for breakfast. It was a little cool, but they all wore warm robes and laughed and teased each other and ate yummy breakfast snacks and fruit and drank June’s delicious Italian roast, thanks, though Sara was unaware of this, to Mozzie’s ‘import/export’ business!

 

“This is much nicer than going to The House and listening to speeches. I am assuming they speak at length. Never knew a government that wasn’t run on taxpayers’ money and hot air!” Neal said, leaning back and popping a whole savoury mini koláč into his mouth.

 

“You’re wearing your slave collar!” Sara said. “I see what you mean, it is like jewellery! It suits you, Neal!”

 

“Peter probably thought the anklet suited me, too – but I like this. And no-one here has anything like it. It’s complex and totally non-feminine. You should see June’s…it really is regal.”

 

“I think you inherited your artistic sense from your father!” June smiled at him. “They all suited us, didn’t they?”

 

Neal nodded and then asked, “So, what are your plans, Sara? I’m sure you want a wardrobe of clothing, and all the best stuff isn’t here…you and June want to go shopping in Paris, perhaps – that’s Paris, France!”

 

Sara’s eyes opened wide. “No customs duty?”

 

“There are few taxes, but duties still exist. I am not sure how you pay them, though…if you come with us, Sara, you won’t be using an airport or a sea port or a land entry point, so …”

 

“Don’t worry – I’m not Peter! I do not mind paying no duties. After all, think of the pollution we are avoiding! And the business we’ll be bringing, stimulating economic development! They should be pleased!”

 

Neal laughed. “We’ll make a criminal of you, yet, Sara!”

 

So the three of them spent a glorious, silly, family day together! The weather cooperated, Neal had money, the women had fun picking out colours and textures. And to their delight, Neal ‘bounced’ back to New York every time he became too overladen with large, brightly coloured bags, leaving his hands free!

 

June had no real need of much, she just gave her opinion and bought little accessories to keep Sara company. June and Neal did take Sara to tailors in Savile Row, Toronto and New York.

        

They all treated the two with immense deference! Sara was entertained! “I thought you always needed an appointment for ordering a bespoke garment,” she said to Neal and the Row tailor walking with them heard and turned, with quiet respect and said, “Not, Ma’am, when you are with Mrs. Ellington or Mr. Sterling.”

 

Sara got the giggles, and Neal frowned at her when the man had withdrawn to bring suitings for their approval. “You are ruining our reputation, Miss Ellis! The man is quite correct: we visit and we pay. In these days after the wars it is much easier to get an appointment, but they try and maintain the traditions!”

 

“But Neal – I am only just up on my feet! Surely I shouldn’t get fitted for a bespoke garment, which is never inexpensive, when I may fill out or change shape or something!”

 

“Let us at least look, my dear – you can explain and come back at another time.

         “Oh, that Italian silk velvet, Neal!”

 

They got away with a relatively small outlay on a Dinner Jacket for Neal. They had his measurements from years before, so it would need only a couple of fittings.

         “That’s a tux,” Sara said.

 

“Only to you, Sara. In England, a Dinner Jacket.”

 

“People here called them tux’s when I was here,” Sara told Neal.

 

“That’s just the English being polite but snooty to the uninformed American!” Neal joked.

............“Now that you have been invited and have entered their inner sanctum, you will be welcomed when you phone and make an appointment, later, when you feel more confident.”

 

“I did love some of those suits,” Sara agreed, rather wistfully.

 

“The beautiful 40’s and 50’s cutting and detailing?” June asked. “They will look splendid on you, too.”

 

“But I can never afford that, and you’ve been very kind, Neal, but women’s made-to-measure is much more expensive than men’s.”

 

“Very worth it, Sara!” Neal grinned. “They have to fit all those complex curves perfectly, to make you look like a work of art, a covering that enhances but never outshines!

         “You can wear them, Sara! And you should have at least one or two bespoke suits, with both trousers and skirts, and a coat, a few hats…let me take you in a few months, please? I thought that petrol green coat was gorgeous on you!”

 

Before Sara became weary, June insisted that they have a snack at one of the cafés and then go on and all have a facial, manicure and pedicure. Sara had been secretly trying to fold her hands round her ratty nails. When she had been disabled, it was hard to find anyone who would do anything more than trim her nails short and since becoming more herself she felt horrified at the sight she must present to people – people such as the impeccable Neal! She bet that even in prison he’d looked well-put-together.

 

Neal had, she admitted to herself, done an excellent job of appearing completely unaware of her condition, treating her with full deference. But that was just his gentlemanly streak!

 

Neal was quite content to sit with the two women and be pampered, and told them of Joster and Merritt’s forays into the world of cut-throat razors, and made them laugh. Sara had a shampoo and her hair completely re-shaped as well, and soon she was feeling very much more like herself, but tiring - as was June!

 

They jumped back to June’s and Neal, with a slight bow, went to change.

         “He’s just being nice, isn’t he, June?” Sara asked, timidly.

 

“He always liked to do things for people, Sara, and now they both have the money to do so. Whether it means more than that…you’d be far better off asking him!”

 

Late that afternoon, Sara tapped on the door to Neal’s studio suite.

         “It’s open!” he called and when she went in he was barefoot, dressed in old, paint-splattered cargo pants and a white singlet that fitted as though he’d painted it on …and he was painting, or actually sketching, seated at his easel.

 

Sara politely didn’t look at his work, but took a seat so, with a sideways glance, he could see her. “I just wanted to come and thank you for everything – today was such fun! It was like the first time we met Sally…buying everything in sight!”

 

“That _was_ fun! We didn’t buy you any helicopters today, though!”

 

“Peter was furious, but the ruse worked!”

 

“He probably wouldn’t have been if he’d thought of it,” Neal murmured, leaning back to get perspective, and making light slashing movements across the paper with a soft graphite.

 

“Sorry…I keep bringing up those old memories!”

 

Neal looked briefly at her. “Don’t be silly, Sara! That’s what we have in common at present. We’ll build some new memories, then we won’t talk about ‘the old days’ so much.”

 

Sara absorbed this remark, but wasn’t sure what to make of it.

         “I liked the shoes!” she said, tentatively.

 

“I remember you and your shoes and bags! All your matching accessories!” Neal smiled without looking over. “You’ve lost everything! And despite your protestations, I don’t think your shoe size will alter much!

...........“And I wanted to get you some sexy shoes! It will remind you that you are different person now: a woman who can walk! (Though how any of your sex walks in those things, let alone dances or runs or fights - ! I am amazed. You should see Diana fight in three-and-a-half-inch heels!)

...........“But if you want really good warm boots, or house-boots or shoes, get Lucilla to make them. I do designs for her, so we’re always good. They get this leather from Camber, it’s like butter! Um – Camber is one of the Keeps. Just let me know, I’ll take you back to Steel.”

 

“I would love some of those soft shoes! But I haven’t thought of any shoes, let alone sexy, strappy things for so long! I especially like the high-heeled sandals with the ankle strap and the tassel at the back…”

 

Neal glanced up with a smile. “Very sexy on the right foot!”

 

“It is very kind – all of it. Taking me round to get such pretty clothing! That coat is lovely.”

 

“You think because I’m a thief I don’t like actually buying stuff?” Neal grinned, turning his head on one side and altering some shading. “I could just be a thief to live, you know, to survive – I was always the best I could be because I like to live well! And, Sara, I can not be happy if my friends don’t live well, too.”

 

“Ah – so those tailors and cobblers have a long-standing relationship with you?”

 

“That’s right. I couldn’t afford them at first, some of them wouldn’t let me in the door but others did, just because they could see my sincere interest and respect for what they achieved…moulding flat canvas and suiting into complex curves…it’s sculpture at its best! – They showed me what made a good suit, how the canvas was used, the way the stitching and stretching creates the shaping…so long as I stayed out of the way and watched and they weren’t too busy…and of course, I not only learned about suits – well, sewing and tailoring skills can be surprisingly useful for various…um…projects? …but I also learned who takes the extra care, who looks after their customers. When I had money, that’s where I went.

         “The first thing I bought, believe it or not, was a fedora. A proper fedora, wider brim than Byron’s, which is really a trilby, but the name is unflattering! Then I got a coat. Then I didn’t have much extra cash for a while, not much cash at all – but oh, that coat made me feel like a millionaire!”

         He stopped a moment and looked directly at her. “That’s what I want for you. You’ve felt like human refuse for too long. I want that to change in your mind, Sara.”

 

She had been about to tease him about his fedora, but now she almost choked. She managed, “Thank you, Neal.”

 

He realised he’d made her feel awkward, so he shut up and got on with his sketching. Eventually she asked, “So this jumping thing, you think I could learn it?”

 

“Don’t see why not,” he answered, absently. “We did. Most Earthlings who were jumped back by Lira didn’t – they didn’t think they could. We all thought it was the Chiri who’d done it!”

 

“So how – ?”

 

“Unlikely as it sounds, it was straight-laced, button-down, no-nonsense, doesn’t-believe-in-miracles-unless-someone-gets-blasted Peter Burke. He wanted to come back to me, see me and Moz, tell us that things had changed a lot here on Earth, that my record had been destroyed. He was calling Lira to get him back, but, apparently, his wanting was enough. And you know how hard-headed and persistent he can be! He just kept bashing his head against the problem – like a stupid fly against the window pane – until he broke through.”

 

“Which most flies don’t!”

 

“Most flies do not have heads like Peter Burke!”

 

“That is true. So he loved you enough to get to you.”

 

“Yes. He always believed he loved me, I think. But to me it always felt – still does – that he loved who he wanted me to be, not who I actually am!”

 

“So – could you find Alex, for example?” _Subtle, Sara, very, very subtle!_

Neal stopped and stood and stretched. “I haven’t thought about Alex in that regard. It’s odd…I didn’t think to come and look for you, or her, or any of the friends who weren’t right here. It wasn’t that we didn’t care, but there was so much going on and – here’s the thing…if we didn’t _know_ , we could just think ‘They’re away, somewhere else’. If we started asking questions, went looking for them and found they were killed in the wars…we’d all lost so much. Us, the ones who were abducted and ended up at Steel, less than average, especially in the English speaking countries, but still…”

 

“I see.”

 

“Cowardly I guess. Just hated to think what could have happened. And I shouldn’t be like that – look at you! What would have happened if Sally hadn’t, by sheer chance, seen you!”

 

“So – you’ll go looking for more of your friends?”

 

“I should.”

 

_Good, Sara! Well done! Good show and all that! That’s all you need! Probably a dozen beautiful women in competition…yeah, I should have stayed away from Neal Caffrey!_

She went down to see if June needed any help. _I think I’ve helped Neal quite enough!_

June told Sara to go and rest, and then dress for dinner. Neal was going to take them out somewhere fancy! “At least you have some very flattering clothes…and if you choose to wear the chartreuse shantung, I have a peridot suite that might go very well with it, and if you’re feeling adventurous, some amber that will, I believe, complement the dress and your delicious eyes, my dear.”

 

Sara dressed. She had never revelled in her embroidered satiny bra and panties, her silk lingerie and stockings as she did now, having for years worn the meanest of clothing, harsh against her skin. This life she had been…jumped…into seemed more and more dream-like! The luxurious silk settled over her body and made her want to dance and sing, ‘I feel pretty!’ because she did…for the first time in years!

 

She felt a little unsure on those heels Neal admired so, but was feeling better about walking in them as she took the elevator down to the ground floor and made her way to the foyer. Neal was coming down the stairs, looking like fashion model, as he always did when he dressed up! He saw her and his face lit up with pleasure!

 

“You look – well, it’s vast improvement from when I saw you in London, Sara!”

 

“I feel so well, I feel – right! As though I haven’t been me all these years.”

 

“The butterfly became an ugly chrysalis, and then re-emerged a butterfly!”

 

“Mm-hm,” she smiled. “Again, I can’t thank -”

 

“Exactly!” Neal interrupted her. “You can’t! If I hadn’t wanted to, or if money was tight or something – but I did and it wasn’t! So please just enjoy it! Remember what June did for me!”

 

“So – paying it forward?”

 

He smiled, and the doorbell rang. Somewhat surprised, Neal went over and opened the door. There, dressed in Vandyke Brown suede and matching fur, stood Alex.

 

Her warm smile washed over Neal as he stood there, astounded, and then she looked past him and saw Sara. She stepped forward, forcing Neal to take a step back. Nothing unassertive about Alex!

         “Hallo, Neal! Hallo, Sara! I didn’t expect you to be here – how are you both?”

        

“We’re both fine, now,” Neal said, pulling himself together. “How are _you?_ Where have you been, Alex?”

 

“France, Germany, the U.K., mostly. I haven’t been back to the USA since – well since you and I were involved with the FBI together. Since I – er – evened the score. I thought I should come and see June, because if anyone had made it through everything it would be June! I was hoping she could tell me where all the rest of you were, how you had come through the alien attack.”

 

“Um – long story. Very, very long story! I am so glad you’re safe and well, too! I had no idea where you were!” Neal gave her a hug and a kiss on the cheek, while she air-kissed him.

 

Now it was _Neal_ thinking, _This is all very dream-like! Not in a good way! Perhaps the plants weren’t such a bad idea!_

“I’m glad…still working with the FBI?”

 

“No. No FBI any more. They’ve gone into local law enforcement for the moment. I’m only in touch with Diana.”

 

“Uh-huh.” Alex eyed him a little mockingly. “We must get together some time and compare long stories, Caffrey.”

 

_Why do most females I have a relationship with call me by my surname? Or ‘New York’ – oh, wonder what happened to Maya! No, no, don’t wonder! She might arrive next!_

“I’d like that. I – er – I’m sorry, Alex, we were just about to leave…”

 

“Oh, no problem, I dropped in unannounced…well, had no idea you were here of course! And no mobile phones….”

 

“Of course,” Neal said, his voice softening. It didn’t usually work to soften Alex, and almost certainly wouldn’t after the last encounter. But he really wanted to understand how they’d got to such a place in their admittedly rocky roller-coaster relationship. “Have you a phone number I can call in New York?”

 

“Nothing settled yet. I actually came to ask June to my wedding.”

 

“Your wedding?” Neal managed to sound interested and encouraging. Alex was looking at him with those huge brown eyes with fires in their depths and he wanted to shoot something! The disadvantage of not being a gun lover – no gun! Well, only the ones locked up in his suite, and secreted around June’s house in case of emergencies! He suddenly wanted to laugh, though, imagining Alex’s complete startlement if he shot June’s beautiful palm right in the pot!

        

“I told you how useful it was to have a duke? Better than any set of lock-picks! Thought I might make it permanent, and seems he was of the same mind-set.

         “I shouldn’t keep you. Now I know where you all are, I shall send the invitations! Do you think Diana would mind if I didn’t ask her? LEO’s of any stripe…not my favourite people.”

 

“I don’t think she’d mind at all,” Neal said, regaining his balance and smirking a little. “I’m sure dukes have enormous guest-lists, people they just can’t snub.”

 

“You would not believe, Caffrey!

         “Well, nice to have seen you both – you’re looking wonderful, Sara, that colour suits you! Tell June I dropped by, I’ll come back when you have more time.”

 

Alex managed to walk like a cat even in high heels, boots topped with the same deluxe fur, and Sara wanted to throw something at her!

 

_She is handling this so much better than I am …both Alex and Neal are!_

 

Neal and Sara both said something at the same time that turned out to be nothing, Alex shrugged up her fur, looked over her shoulder, gave her wicked criminal smile, and left, closing the door after her.

 

Into the excruciatingly awkward silence came June, looking wonderful, and holding two jewel-cases. “Sara! There you are! I don’t know which…” June looked back and forth between them. “Should I go out and come in again? Or not come in again?” she asked.

 

“No, no – we’re both just a little surprised,” Neal said, which was the truth, just not the whole truth in Sara’s opinion. “Alex Hunter just dropped in unannounced, told us to give you her love when she found we were about to go out, and told us she was marrying a duke, she’ll send invitations to the wedding.”

 

June glanced at Sara, then back to Neal. “Mmhmm. Now that’s interesting!”

 

“Very,” Neal agreed.

 

“I think it’s very nice,” Sara said. “Alex is gorgeous, and riches suit her. She won’t have to resort to crime any more. I always thought, from what you said, that she wasn’t really a criminal at heart.”

 

“Some people are born criminals, some achieve criminality and some have criminality thrust upon them,” Neal murmured, thinking back to the time he told Alex he’d been forced-Fed. He would have liked to be able to talk to Alex. In private.

 

As usual, June showed her class, ignored the strain palpable in the atmosphere and convinced Sara to choose the amber set, and asked Neal to help her with the necklace and bracelet while she herself pinned on the brooch.

 

“That looks very good, that slightly odd amber on that colour. June, you have an artist’s eye!” Neal said.

 

“Like criminal, artist by marriage only,” she chuckled. “The car should be at the door by now.”

 

Sara had never admired Neal more. Meeting Alex after all these years, while about to escort herself to dinner, must have been difficult. She wasn’t an investigator for nothing, and, though she knew very little for fact, she knew that their parting hadn’t been without tension, in fact their whole relationship had been _filled_ with tension from what she had discovered (mostly from pumping Peter!) – but the fact that they kept merging their lives and their heists spoke of trust and at least some affection!

 

To have the fact that Alex was marrying someone else thrown at him – in the presence of another woman he’d had a relationship with - would have unsettled any lesser man…any lesser _conman!_

 

To watch him and listen to his conversation, the incident with Alex might not have happened at all. He was attentive and charming to both of them, ordering in impeccable French, chatting knowledgeably with the sommelier and making sure their orders were filled to perfection.

 

Sara did her own bit of pretending: she’d been a professional, too. In fact, all three of them pretended that other women had no part in Neal’s life. They chatted about the restaurant, the food, the various possibilities for a new career for Sara…

 

 _Swans!_ June thought, amused, admiring and sad in equal quantities for the two younger people with her. _Serene and beautiful above, paddling like crazy underneath._

_It’s times like these that I could wish that Neal wasn’t a conman at all,_ Sara thought. _Not that I’d want him to make a scene in a crowded, high-end restaurant, but I’d like to be able to read him. I’d like to know how he feels about Alex. Was he just surprised, annoyed that she’d turned up like that, pleased she’s not dead or hurt – or does he love her, like her, miss the fun they had? I’ll bet **she** never testified against him! Never treated him like a feral rat whenever we - they - had to work together. Peter enjoyed watching me put Neal down…and, damn it, I enjoyed doing it, too! I wanted to get back at him, at first. _

_I was right the first and the second time – Miss Ellis, you should stay away from Neal Caffrey!_

Finally the endless evening that any observer would have said was perfect came to an end! Neal saw June to her suite and Sara to the elevator doors (she really wanted to take off her high heels now! Her feet had become unaccustomed to them!) and went up to his rooms. He carefully undid the laces on his Italian shoes, placed them in the rack. He removed his socks and tie. He carefully took off his gorgeously cut suit, he carefully hung it up, hung up his matching tie, took of his shirt and put it in the basket. He went into the bathroom, stripped off his boxer-briefs and climbed into the shower.

 

He did all this while very carefully **_not_** thinking of Alex, as he had all the long evening. Not really thinking of anything! Afterwards he climbed into bed, and lay there thinking about the three of them…Sara, Alex, and himself standing between them. Sara, elegant and fair, in the light green. Alex, dark and smouldering, in the rich brown. He’d come to love and trust Sara, just as they parted. Then Rebecca had put her totally out of his mind.

 

And Alex? He went through their times together. If it hadn’t been for Kate…

 

_Perhaps Peter was right. Not Kate’s fault, I don’t think, but she and I were bad for each other. Because of me she was taken by Fowler. Because of her I became distracted and messed up Mozzie’s con…I could perhaps have saved that if I’d paid attention!. Because of her, I annoyed Peter a lot! Because of her, I never really explored what I might have had._

_.........And Kate was a dream, for me. She would have fitted the little rose-covered cottage with the white picket fence and the cow out back that Peter wanted for me! She was relatively innocent and simple. If I’d met her five years…eight years before? If I’d grown up next door to her, in normal, happy families…we might have had a great, if ordinary life together._

_........As it was, she would never have been a fit for me, my life. I would have become tired of her…bored. That’s very sad, but true. She was a pretty porcelain figurine. Only being separated kept her interesting, I wanted to save her. She tried to become the right sort of girl for me, but she wasn’t a natural. I’m a natural, Mozzie’s a natural…I think Alex is a natural. Or we all started out so early it looks as though it was inevitable for all of us!_

_..........There’s a lot more to Sara. She’s so smart and has hard edges that make her interesting, if a little wearying at times. At one time I thought she was way too law-abiding, but now I think perhaps she would stand by me, as June stood by Byron, not because she’s in the Life, but because she loves me. Because she does. Though that’s getting all muddled up with gratitude at the moment._

_...........And Alex…if there’d been no Kate…Alex and I get on like sparks and tinder! Never boring! If I’m not thinking of something, she is! She kept backing away because of Kate, how smitten I was with Kate. And then she became resentful about how much she’d given up because she loved me, and I loved Kate, and I was stuck with the FBI and kept giving them more loyalty than I should have – or needed to. Just as I – eventually - resented how much I kept giving up because of Peter!_

  _...........In fact, the only one who seems to be un-resentful, and who has the best of reasons to be, is Moz. Poor Moz, the times I used him, and Peter used him, and we spoilt his plans – all because he was loyal to me. I must not forget the Spanish gold – or silver, or whatever!_

_..........And now Mozzie has Sally. Sally, though she worked with different skills, is in the Life and understands us. She sits somewhere between me and Moz when it comes to wanting to do jobs. Moz has so many other…odd…interests, he’s totally happy with Steel’s money and roof while he learns and practices - unless something, like the Spanish ship, catches his eye. He doesn’t actively seek the rush. He’s calmer. Would I be better with a Sally-type, or a June-type? Not that there’s many to choose from. Most women want normal, I think. I can play normal, but I can’t live normal._

It occurred to him that he didn’t believe for one moment that Alex was getting married to a duke!

 

_Okay – is that just conceit, Caffrey? Do you think she’s waited for **you** all these years? You think you were her Kate? That there couldn’t be other men in her life?_

He also realised he didn’t doubt there’d been other men in her life! A striking, clever and passionate woman like Alex?

 

_She’s stunningly beautiful and smart and has all sorts of edges! She’s great in a tight spot – and in bed. Why shouldn’t she find a fantastic guy with a title?_

Neal turned over and thought about it for a few minutes.

_It was the look she gave me. And the whole ‘duke’ reference. If she’d said a baron, a Nabob, a magnate, an earl, a prince…but a duke? Tomorrow evening I’ll go to Steel – I need supplies anyway…if Sara doesn’t need me here, I’ll pop back there and then go on to Alex. I need to know she’s really all right._

He sat up to fix his pillows, and decided to get a drink of water. He leaned against the table as he drank, absently looking out over the city lights…and suddenly focussed. There was a movement. He slowly went to the doors and opened them into a slight breeze. It was a scarf, lifting and moving. Glancing round to make sure he was alone, he walked over and picked it up. It was a black silk scarf, weighted with what felt like a pair of spectacles and…something with a sharp point.

 

Checking his  surroundings again, he went back inside and into the bedroom: more secure. He turned on the light and looked at the bundle in his hand. He was sure it was a little reminder from Alex!

 

The scarf could have been Alex’s. So could the glasses, part of a disguise, another alias…the glass was plain. But the ear-ring…his throat caught. The ear-ring was the one Rebecca…Rachel…had dropped down the sewer. Or its pair. His mouth dried.

 

_Oh, great! This gets better and better! And I was worried about **Alex** appearing!_

 

Neal wished very heartily that he could talk to Mozzie. Mozzie was smart and totally pragmatic unless some conspiracy was involved! But he couldn’t imagine jumping into the middle of a House Debate, and he had no idea what time it was at Steel. He tried to work it out…

_We jumped here and it was morning there and evening here…now it’s night here…probably mid-day there? Can’t risk it. Damn!_

_........If I don’t do something, I’ll just lie here…or get up and try and patrol and keep the whole house safe. I might as well get one woman out of the way! I just can’t bring myself to believe that Sara **and** Alex **and** Rachel were here tonight!_

He dressed hurriedly and thought about Alex’s soft brown eyes, her lovely hands…and jumped, taking the scarf-bundle with him.

 

He landed in a hotel room. Nice enough…but not very expensive. He went over to the bed, and there was Alex. Alone. He leaned one knee on the bed and put his hand on her shoulder.

 

She came awake and he found the muzzle of a gun in his face. “Oh,” she said. “It’s you.”

 

“Yeah, it’s me. And I don’t like guns!”

 

She pushed the thing under the covers and he glanced around, “Doesn’t look like the sort of place a duke gets for his fiancée.”

 

“Haha. Ahh – thought that would fetch you!” Alex said, amused, sitting up, pushing her hair behind her ear and seeing the scarf.

 

“Alex – this isn’t yours! At least, the ear-ring isn’t yours!”

 

“No, it’s not, is it, Neal? Yet another of your conquests!”

 

“I am not sure who won that battle! I don’t think I’d say **_I_** did! Alex, this isn’t a joke. The woman who owns this – owned it…she’s not like you or me. She’s a killer, Alex. Dangerous. How did you get this?”

 

“Poisoned her and took it off her corpse.” Neal blinked and Alex scoffed. “How did you think I got it? Rebecca gave it to me.”

 

“She gave it to you.”

_Well, better than Rachel being on my balcony! Or is it?_

“What does she want, Alex? How did you find her?”

 

“I didn’t. I didn’t know of her existence. It may surprise you, Caffrey, but I didn’t spend much time thinking about you after we parted. I had much better and more productive things to do. After the world went all to hell and then sort of started putting itself together again, **_I_** was getting my life back together, and she found me.”

 

“That can’t be good! She was a rogue MI6 agent, an agent gone assassin.”

 

“So she explained. She’s very beautiful and very calm. I see what you saw in her.”

 

“Calm, cold, calculating, a killer.”

 

“Yes, very nice. But I don’t think you knew her very well…except in the purely Biblical sense!”

 

“Alex…I know we’ve had our differences, but trust me, I don’t want to see her do to you what she did to other people I knew.”

 

“The ‘people’ you knew that she killed was one Curtis Hagen who was about to vindictively ruin your life.”

 

“And Siegel, my handler and someone who seemed a decent guy.”

 

“You didn’t know him long, did you? He was a pretty boy who talked a good game, but he would have used you – just like Peter did, but with less caring. Rebecca had done her research. She wasn’t thrilled with Peter being in your life, but she said he was one of the good ones.”

 

“So she killed Siegel.”

 

“No, she didn’t. Hagen did. Hagen saw him after you’d had a meeting with him – Hagen – and killed him. He transferred Rachel’s fingerprint onto the inside of the gun, then just wiped the outside down and hid it.

...........“She’d left the fingerprint on the glass when they looked over the manuscript together at the museum, he told her. It was warm and she couldn’t wear gloves. He used it against her, afterwards. Said he’d let the authorities know where the gun was hidden, and taunted her, since she didn’t. Then Burke caught Hagen, and she didn’t want to lose you, and he’d have forced her to run and put you in prison pretty much forever. By the way, she hoped the doctored painting would force Hagen to run, and you and she could – well – hunt the diamond together and ride happily off into the sunset.”

 

“Look, whatever she told you is a lie. She’s an accomplished liar, Alex.”

 

“And that’s high praise, coming from you.”

 

Neal was silenced. Then he said, “Since you’re all friendly with Rachel, sharing her clothes and jewellery like true BFF’s, and I’ve done my bit and warned you – guess I’ll be saying good-bye, Alex. Be careful. Please.”

 

“Don’t go, Neal.”

 

“Nothing to keep me here…give my regards to the duke. You won’t be seeing me at your wedding.”

 

“Neal! Rebecca didn’t want to scare you. She asked me to give you a message.”

 

“There’s nothing she could tell me that I would be interested in hearing, thanks!”

 

“Wow! I don’t remember you being this judgemental!”

 

“ ** _Judgemental!”_** He took a deep breath. “She shot a man in cold blood feet away from me.”

 

“In the heart. As he was going to give Burke enough to lock you away for decades. She told me. She got all the copies and all the evidence against you out of his rooms – he had two safe-houses – and then staked out the one she thought he’d go to. Because his word was enough, he knew too much about your crimes, he had to go. You’d have gone away forever and she wanted to make sure that did not happen.

...........“She is one fine shot…she’s taught me a lot!”

 

Neal again felt like he’d wandered into the twilight zone…which he often did feel, but only when talking to Mozzie! “Getting rid of Hagen got rid of the gun – or she would have thought it did. Peter found it. And Alex, you’re not a killer! ”

 

“No, never wanted to be. But, Neal, bullets can take out more than people, and I never wanted to be a victim, either.”

 

“Where is Rachel?” Neal demanded. “Last I heard she was in a maximum security cell and would be there forever!” He thought this was a time to call Peter, if he could winkle a location out of Alex.

 

“Oh she doesn’t want to see you. She just wanted to say good-bye. She – and a number of very bad people, and some very innocent people – were released when a slave-ship broke into the prison and took all the younger inmates and released the rest.”

 

“You are not trying to say Rachel was innocent!”

 

“No, she never said she was. She did what she was trained – by her country – to do. It eventually got too much, but she couldn’t get out of that way of life. She had no-one – till you. I was sorry for her.”

 

“What happened to her – she killed all the aliens and escaped? I wouldn’t put it past her!”

 

“No. She wouldn’t tell me what happened. Well – she just told me a lot of rubbish. But she made contact with me so she could get you the message.”

 

“I can see we’re not getting any further until I ask you: what was the message the lying assassin wanted you to bring to me?”

 

“That she’s sorry, she loves you, and that she’s healed. Completely. She can’t forget her past and she knows you can’t either, but it’s all like it happened to someone else. All the bad bits. She remembers you very well…trust me. We had fun comparing notes!”

 

Neal ignored the jibe. “No threats with that side of lies?”

 

“No, Neal. No threats. She loves you. She says she’ll never come near you or your friends, and she wanted you to know that, if you’d heard she was free and worried about her holding a grudge. There’s precious little in the way of records left; she can start again.”

 

Neal sat on the bed. “I wished there was some way I could believe what you say – what she said, I mean.”

 

“I like her. She’s smart.”

 

“You sound like Peter.”

 

“Wash your mouth out with soap and water!”

 

Neal grinned. “So long as she stays away from me, I guess that’s all all right.”

 

“You sound tired.”

 

“Yeah, a little. For some strange reason, this evening was stressful!

         “She said _what_ , about her past?” Neal suddenly asked. “Exactly, that is, word for word?”

 

“That it was if it had happened to someone else, not to her. She remembered it, but there was no emotion, something like that.”

 

“You also said she made up some crazy story, that she didn’t tell you what had happened to her?”

 

“Yeah, abducted by aliens, living in a castle, Trends, I think she said – got the chance to get sent back to Earth. But then she was healed by some blue alien - ”

 

“ - with hair that moved on its own,” Neal groaned, and Alex looked at him oddly. “And they aren’t blue, that’s Avatar.”

 

“How did you know that?”

 

“Oh, that’s part of the very long story!”

 

“I am confused.”

 

“I hope she’s telling the truth. That would be wonderful,” Neal murmured. Then he looked up and grinned at Alex. “So – I assume there’s no duke! What are you doing in New York?”

 

“Came to find out what had happened to my old partner in crime. You look fantastic, like the first time we met – but the hair isn’t so fluffy. I liked the fluffy hair, to be honest.”

 

Neal rolled his eyes. “And how are you, other than being better with guns than before you met Rachel?”

 

“She calls herself Rebecca now. And I’m okay. Work’s been hard. I hoped it would be better in the good old rich USA, but it’s worse here than the Continent.”

 

“The aliens targeted English-speaking groups, quite soon after invading. Easier to supply translations.”

 

“That makes sense. Who thought that one up – Mozzie? How’s Moz?”

 

“He’s very, very well. Oh, Alex – I’ve missed you.”

 

“And Sara?”

 

“Sara was living in a poor-house-group-home thing in the UK, there’s so many disabled and impoverished by the alien wars there. She needs help getting back on her feet.”

 

“Her feet – in £375-plus shoes - looked just fine to me.”

 

“Meeow!” Neal said, chuckling. “I’ll get you some, if you like.”

 

“Oh, don’t show off, Caffrey! For heaven’s sake, I can steal my own shoes!”

 

“I really have missed you!

.........."I’m sorry.”

 

“For what?”

 

“Kate, mostly. I’m sorry for Kate, and the FBI and Peter – just for not seeing what you were offering at the time and – and – well, for just not seeing. I’m so sorry, Alex.”

 

“Yeah, I eventually ditched you and your anchors – or were you in dry dock? - and took off with the antiquities. So enough blame to go around!”

 

“I thought we’d all agreed long ago: it’s never about the money.”

 

“Well, that time it was, for me. I would have preferred some of the U-boat pieces, but the few Greek pieces I kept certainly were enjoyable.”

 

“Still have the villa in Sardinia, hmm?”

 

“Yes. Need cash for maintenance, though.”

 

Neal leaned over and took her hand. “It was about the money for you that time because I’d left you nothing else.”

 

“My God, Caffrey, could you just get over yourself!” Alex snapped, yanking her hand back. “I’ve still got the gun! I think high-velocity lead might – just **_might_**   pierce your much inflated sense of self!”

 

Neal grinned. “So – we’re still even? No hard feelings, Alex? You were important to me, you know. One of the few people who could understand me.”

 

“I guess we’re even. I still resent what you did to me with Adler…the first time.”

 

“Trust me, he got back at me for that!”

 

“Serves you right. And, to misquote Heathcliffe, ‘Why should God and Adler get all the satisfaction?’”

 

Neal grinned and then it faded and he looked at her solemnly. She had never fallen for the grin, though he was unaware of the fact. Grins and smiles are too easy. She waited, wondering what he would say. Wondering what she wanted him to say.

 

“What do you want out of your life, Alex? We never spoke in depth – and you were always after some treasure or another, sometimes trampling me underfoot.”

 

“My poor little delicate artist!”

 

“Not going to tell me?”

 

She surprised herself by saying, “I want to be safe.”

 

Then he laughed. “You make a habit of climbing in high windows and dodging the bullets of security guards and LEOs, you pull off high-risk heists and you say you want to be safe!”

 

She laughed with him. “Not that kind of safe! We only live once, might as well live! I don’t care about being physically hurt. Rather avoid it, you understand, but that I can work at. I worked with a stunt man for a while…they know safety.”

        

He glanced up. She **_was_** like him! “So if you had a billion dollars?”

 

“Have all the latest gear and choose my jobs very carefully: lowest risk for my abilities, but not too low, high return.”

 

“Always on the job, then?”

 

“Addicted, I think. There’s no other rush quite like it – you know that, Neal, if Peter didn’t crush you between his head and a hard place. Gosh, I don’t know how you stood him! He was dumb. Rebecca might be right, that he’s well-intentioned…”

 

Neal shook his head. “He can be brilliant, but he does do some dumb things. What he did with you….

............“And no, I have the same problem. Nothing like it.”

 

“Not even sex or chocolate.”

 

“Not even sex _and_ chocolate, though that might come close with the right woman, the right chocolate.”

 

She laughed, looked down so her hair hid her face and then looked straight at him. “You sleeping with Sara?”

 

“No – at least – no reason why I shouldn’t!”

 

“None at all. Exceedingly up-market, Sara.”

 

He looked at her and wanted very much to take her in his arms and kiss her…and then he thought of Aramalitha. So _very_ different from Alex! And if Aramalitha truly was too pure and too insightful for him, that sort of left Alex. Or someone he’d never met. And there were so few women who would want what he really was.

 

“And you?” he asked. “Anyone in your life?”

 

“Only the Jambhala at present.”

 

“Tibetan gods of wealth. Getting predictable, Alex!”

 

“I have never mentioned the Jambhala before!”

 

“Are you interested in a job, a little later? One of Mozzie’s plans.”

 

“I’m not risking my life to recover artefacts from Area 51. He was right all along: we freely admit it!”

 

“No, precious metals.”

 

“That’s more my style.”

 

“I’ll contact you nearer the time.”

 

“How will you find me.”

 

“I’ll always find you, Alex.”

 

“I might not always be conveniently in New York, Caffrey! You’re sounding conceited again!”

 

“You can’t go far enough for me to be unable to find you!”

 

“That sounds like a challenge!”

 

“And _that_ sounds like our old relationship!”

 

She smiled, the light catching her teeth and her sparkling eyes. “Yeah, it does! And yeah, I’ve missed it! Never quite had that with anyone but you.”

 

There was a silence, broken by a police siren somewhere. Neal stood and said, “Just for once, I’d like us to try something different. See how it felt.”

 

“Probably boring.”

 

“I know!” he acknowledged, looking bemused. “Isn’t it awful?”

 

“To be so predictable?”

 

“Well, all addictions can become problems, usually start out that way! And addictions can only be broken if one wants them to be, you know…and I’m not sure who I’d be if I wasn’t a thief, a liar, a conman, addicted to adrenaline. Probably boring and grey and miserable, like so many non-criminals seem to be!”

 

“You could always switch addictions - try sex and chocolate.”

 

Neal sat almost without volition and Alex moved into his arms and he kissed her. She smelt of some dark fragrance that had notes of cloves and nutmeg and sage Dalmatian. She moulded herself to his body and the kiss deepened and their breathing quickened. He groaned and she chuckled deep in her throat as her hand smoothed up the warm muscles of his back.

 

_Oh, this is **not** the way to get one woman out of the way!_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 End of Chapter 30

 

Yeah - I would like comments. I know people had very strong opinions about women from the canon - usually Alex versus Sara. Trouble is, I liked them both (not necessarily equally for the Neal, obviously).

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	31. Divulging and Concealing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal bounces idea off Alex, then leaves her to go home to Steel...and finds himself painting with more confidence than he ever has had before.

 

 

 

Neal split neatly into three…his head, his heart and his body.

 

Oh, his body wanted what it wanted, and that fiercely…he’d been alone too long and he knew Alex and she knew him and he knew this would be memorable…his blood sizzled with the need for her… _God!…_

 

His head was asking, in a rather pitifully weak and objective tone if this was a step in the right direction, and if letting his hormones have their way had ever worked out for him…

 

His heart showed him Aramalitha.

 

_Damn!_

 

“Alex,” he gasped, swallowing, trying to ease her hold on him, “Alex – wait.”

 

“What?” she asked, looking up, distracted, her eyes dark with desire…for him.

 

_Oh, that makes it a **whole** lot better!_

“Alex,” he asked gently, “where are we going with this?”

 

“Are you on something?” she asked, impatiently. “We both know where this is going, Neal…”

 

“I don’t mean this, right this minute…”

 

“Somehow, that’s all I care about right this minute!”

 

“No, please – can we talk?”

 

“You have got to be kidding me!” Alex sat back. “Are you trying to be insulting, Caffrey?”

 

“No – no, Alex, it’s not that you’re not just as desirable as ever…”

 

“And we’re good together, so …?”

 

“I mean – we’ve done this before.”

 

“Yes! You didn’t like it?” Her voice asked if he was some kind of freak!

 

“Of course, yes, of course! But then we just fight. Or disagree, or leave each other.”

 

“You would have to be an amazing liar, to have pretended so well! I will agree that our shared sex life has not been without its problems,” she said, and he was reminded of Mozzie! “But they have not been singular…more like cluster bombs! And as hot and dangerous!”

 

_Like Kate…would I love her if she was here, around more often? I wouldn’t get bored, but perhaps we would just learn to hate each other?_

“Do you see us as anything else other than great sexual partners, once every year or so!”

 

“Great team members on heists. When you’ll play. What _is_ this, Neal? I thought we had something!”

 

“We did – we do. I just wonder what!”

 

She sat right back, pushed her hair behind her ears again, and made a moue. “My Neal, all grown up and responsible? Did Burke teach you to want security, to want to know what’s on the other side of every fence before you climb?”

 

“Alex, the times we’ve been together have been special. But we’ve never managed to stay together for more than a matter of months and the more recent get-togethers have been a lot shorter than that and with a lot more… hostility! We have a fantastic night together, but when I wake up all I have is an origami flower on the night-stand, a promise of far-future things!”

 

“You were hardly available, Neal. Burke could walk in at any time – and he did. Not one bit of consideration. You had no privacy, no freedom. Not easy to be spontaneous and connected to each other in that situation!

“What did you want from me? You linked your life to the FBI! Even Mozzie…and I love Mozzie, you know, and I hate to say anything against him, but even _he_ accepted that. He even _spoke_ to them! Politely!

“Having Feds in your home, knowing all your personal details. Come on, Neal – ever thought that could have turned some of your friends off? You used us, some of us, to help the Feds! Could have made us wonder about you?”

 

“Peter didn’t know all my personal details! And – some of the time I was just trying to stay out of prison, Alex! And Moz only had as much to do with them as he had to, and again, to help me.”

 

“Not for want of trying – and wanting, Peter didn’t!”

 

Neal looked down, shrugged. “I was stuck, Alex.”

 

“Yeah – you took the deal to look for Kate. I fully understand. If I had loved anyone as you loved Kate, and felt that she needed me… ** _but_** **_Kate died_** , Neal. You stayed on the anklet. You didn’t have to. You could have run any time after she died. Be honest – you were toying with respectability! You were toying with giving up the Life. You wanted to become Peter Burke.”

 

“That’s a bit harsh! I did think it might be nice not to be on the run ever again.”

 

“Neal, Neal – everyone’s on the run from something! Those ordinary, responsible people out there just as much as we are, though they sometimes don’t know it!”

 

“From?”

 

“From debt, from old age, from boredom, from a marriage gone wrong, from loneliness, from taxes – you name it! Our lives are simple by comparison! We are not free, either, but a lot nearer freedom than those wage slaves out there.”

 

Neal smiled a little. “I have experienced slavery, and you’re right. Things are not always what they seem. I hadn’t seen quite what you are saying, but I suppose you have a very valid point.”

 

“I know you have!” Alex exclaimed, misunderstanding. “Slave to the Feds – and where did that get you, in the end?”

 

“It’s a long story…”

 

“We could – before you got captured – just go. We hear there’s a diamond exhibit in Antwerp or a money-train in Chicago or the museum in Vienna has something someone is asking for – just go. How many people can just go anywhere they want to?”

 

“Again – long story!”

 

Alex sighed. “Are you happy, Neal – happy without me? Because I never wanted to push in where I wasn’t wanted – okay, I’ll amend that! I never want to push into a personal relationship where I wasn’t wanted or needed. I thought we had something, even if it was …sporadic; you obviously have doubts. So – if you’re happy – just go the way you came. I don’t think anyone should get into a relationship without feeling that they just can’t do without the other person.”

 

“No hard feelings?”

 

“Obviously not.” Her smile was sad.

 

Neal was torn. “I don’t know, Alex. I am always happy with you – unless we’re fighting about some heist or another. The sex is fantastic. You’re funny and warm and beautiful.”

 

“Ahh… ** _but?_** _”_

“We’re great together for short periods. Could we marry and have children?”

 

“You want _children?_ ”

 

“Never had a life where I could consider it! It wouldn’t have been fair!”

 

“And now you have that life?”

 

He nodded. “I do.”

 

“And…”

 

He smiled ruefully. “I haven’t considered children! I haven’t considered a wife, yet!”

 

“Are you sort of proposing thinking of proposing? You’re saying I’m in the running, along with, perhaps, Sara? You’re checking our teeth and our hoofs?”

 

“No. Not Sara. She’s a very special friend. But - she’s too – normal!”

 

Alex burst out laughing. “Poor Sara. You realise she’s in love with you? And you should be glad I don’t take offence easily – I still have the gun!”

 

“I guess I’m saying that I would like some permanence. I have _some_ – Moz and I are set financially. He’s got this great woman. I have no-one. And I don’t want the wrong person.”

 

“And I’m right?”

 

Neal grinned. “If there _was_ a duke, would you marry him? Not as a con, but to settle down and love him forever and work on a real, multi-dimensional relationship?”

 

Alex’s eyes widened, like an antelope realising that the round shape was not a leaf, but the ear of a lion, lying in wait. “Neal! No-one’s ever asked me! I never thought…”

 

“You _want_ to be climbing in sky-lights when you’re sixty?”

 

“You’ve seen Jack Lalanne? Why not?”

 

“Let me rephrase…do you want to _have_ to be climbing in sky-lights when you’re sixty? You don’t want a family, close friends? Christmas traditions and birthday get-togethers?”

 

Alex Hunter was silenced. She looked very sombre. “Not for people like us, Neal. I thought you knew. We give those things up for life. We give those things up for the Life.”

 

“I said we’d taken Heaven off the table and a wise woman – and a bunch of plants - taught me the error of my ways! If we are free, Alex, if we are free in any way that matters, we can also choose a home and family, as well as any heist we choose! At any time…but I admit, once you’ve chosen a family, you can’t just ditch them!”

 

“ _You_ can’t! If they turned out bad, griping, no sense of humour, stupid, I could ditch them very easily!”

 

They laughed. “Cold, calculating – no wonder you and Rebecca get on so well!” Neal told her.

 

“She warned me about you.”

 

“What?”

 

“She warned me you wanted to settle down.”

 

“Good at reading people, I guess.”

 

“Yeah. So…just to be clear…you are thinking of finding a wife and settling down and I may – just may – be the right one for you?”

 

“Are you, Alex? I only know the fly-by-night Alex…would you want to share a major portion of your days with me – and Mozzie. He’s always in my life. And June and – other people you’ll have to meet.”

 

“And you kept the treasure? You can keep me in the manner to which I’ve been striving all my life to become accustomed?”

 

Neal smiled. “’Keep’-ing is the least of our worries! We have roofs for you to put your beautiful head under and more money than even you, expensive woman, can spend in a lifetime.”

 

“Oh, at least give me a chance to try!”

 

He laughed at her, and then cocked his head on one side. “I think we should both go our separate ways and consider this, because neither of us have before.

         “I – I want you, now, and I want you very badly. But it wouldn’t be fair to you – or me.”

 

“I wish you’d let me decide for myself!”

 

“No, Alex. If you want me…”

 

“Are you seriously telling me I shoulda put a ring on it…and on _what?_

         “You’ve really changed!”

 

Neal grinned, and again ignored her teasing. “No, I haven’t. _Not_ really. I always pretended I didn’t, but I do want a permanent home or homes – and I want to be free to run cons or forge paintings. Hence, the very special partner. You are free to apply. Your initial review is certainly favourable!”

 

“Pompous ass!”

 

“There you go!”

 

They both chuckled, and Alex opened her arms. “Hugs? May be your last chance?”

 

“You really don’t want more than the occasional sleepover?” Neal said, a little sadly.

 

Alex sighed. “I think normal people are wired to want stability. Some of us train ourselves to avoid it as an alcoholic avoids his first drink, because we can’t have it…like sharks, gotta keep moving, gotta keep going after the next score, because they’re never big enough to settle down with…and for me the U-boat treasure may have been enough, if I could have secured it, could have settled down, perhaps. _That_ was what I wanted, Neal. I wanted the win!”

 

Neal sat and took her hands. “Alex! You said you’d given it up. Your obsession. So give it up. There are other, more important wins!”

 

“From the guy who got it – or was given it by his genius friend! But I could always con _you_ …you know I could. I could con you and marry you for it. What you didn’t lose to Keller because of Peter, anyhow.”

 

“So that’s a definite no to my proposal?”

 

“Why?”

 

“You don’t reveal a con to the mark beforehand!” His lop-sided smile was rueful.

 

“We-ell, I happen to think that if I married you – if, you understand! – it would be a very good thing to keep you guessing…too cocky by half, Caffrey!”

 

Neal laughed and kissed her cheek, and stood. She looked up at him with suddenly serious eyes. “Is there a time limit on this offer of your money and your body, Caffrey?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“What is it…and is _your_ heart involved, am I allowed to know?”

 

“We’ve been talking for an hour or more…I wouldn’t have bothered, Alex, if it wasn’t. But – I think – just perhaps – our time has passed. If you hadn’t been obsessed with the damn treasure, and I wasn’t obsessed with Kate, if I’d stayed with you on the Continent… perhaps too much has happened. Too many disappointments. On both sides. It would be work, Alex. Patching the holes, learning to trust.”

 

She nodded. “I kept leaving, feeling that. That we’d just missed it. Over and over. Like that awful sensation when you put your weight behind a tennis shot and whiff completely.”

 

Neal crumpled his chin. “You have June’s land-line number? I’m prepared to try if you are…but you have to be willing to give to me what you gave to the music box, because I’ll give you so much more than I gave Kate.”

 

He turned and walked into the bathroom. And jumped.

 

Alex didn’t bother to check the bathroom, even though she knew the window was stuck shut…somehow, Neal would have escaped. He was good at escaping, running. She turned over and then realised he’d left the scarf, glasses and ear-ring behind on the bed.

 

_What would it be like to be married, settled? What would it be like to be married to Neal? If he couldn’t run from me? Would he be bearable?_

 

Neal was heavy-eyed at breakfast and Sara sighed. She never had thought there was much chance for her, even when Neal was shackled to Peter and New York. Now that he could jump to Alex – or anyone – and obviously had… She had seen that image of Alex, dark against the brooding darkness, over and over, Neal absorbed by her, his back to Sara…

 

She told June she was going out to see the new, rebuilt New York, see how it compared to her memories. She went up to get her coat and umbrella.

 

Neal and June sat over the coffee cups.

 

“So – you and Alex?” June asked, quietly.

 

The corner of Neal’s mouth quirked up as he remembered the silly, complicated conversation of the night before. “We discussed it.

         “How did you _know_ , June. About Byron?”

 

“Like the neighbourhood, life was nicer then, Neal. Simpler. I hadn’t slept with multiple and all very good-looking, intelligent partners. Perhaps I would have been less sure, had I lived as you have lived. To me, Byron wasn’t just the man for me. He was the only man. I got hit on, as they say, by many men. I was in the spot-light, I was young and not bad-looking -”

 

“I’ve seen the photo’s, June, dear! No fishing! You were a knock-out! A _little_ more than now!”

 

“Thank you, dear!” she smiled. “Having seen most of your girlfriends, I will take that as a compliment of the highest order!”

 

“And so you should! I only wish that I was a decade older or you a decade younger, my choices would be simple!”

 

“A decade! Flattery is the essence of many a good con, Neal, but can be overdone! If you were a decade older _and_ I was a decade younger, we’d still need a decade!”

 

“Rubbish! Age is just a number!”

 

“Unfortunately my heart, as they say, was buried with Byron – or that part of my heart!” she smiled at him. “But even when devastatingly good looking men paid me attention, I was never, ever tempted. Even when Byron was…away. I wasn’t noble or virtuous, Neal. They weren’t attractive to me. I mean – I could see they were handsome, but as I see Sara is attractive. Sexless.”

 

Neal studied her. “Maybe that’s a female thing. Most men can see most woman as sexy, I think. Straight men!”

 

“Perhaps you’re right. I was very blessed, Neal, Byron never cheated on me. And I would suggest you don’t ever marry until you won’t – even in your mind.”

 

“I can’t appreciate a beautiful woman- ?”

 

“Just as you appreciate a handsome man, a masterpiece of painting or sculpture, flowers and starlight.”

 

Neal didn’t say anything, but his eyebrows went up and he scanned the table, thinking. She watched him, amused. Then she went on, “You’re so good-looking, Neal, you could have anyone. You probably always could – from the time you left school, anyway. But if you plan to marry – marrying is for life. Or don’t. Just play the field. Don’t make promises you won’t keep. It’s not fair on your wife and it’s not fair on yourself. It’ll break something in you that can’t be easily fixed. Lying for a con is one thing. Lying for a heart is another entirely. You care too much, Neal.”

 

She left him sitting there, and he only got up from the table when June’s maid came up to clear. June and Byron had set the bar high! Could he be the type of man who would have a woman’s love and hold her heart a score of years after he was dead? All his relationships had been temporary because he’d been a criminal on Earth, but now things could be different. Mozzie and Sally had shown him that.

 

 

He told the maid to tell June he’d be back for dinner, went up to his rooms, took his sketches and jumped to his studio at Steel. He spent a little time wandering from room to room in this suite, and looking at his other sketches, half-finished works, at Mozzie’s chaotic room, full of weird equipment, glass containers with various powders, seeds, things in formaldehyde the exact identity of which Neal didn’t even want to guess and notebooks full of tiny, beautifully neat handwriting and graphs.

 

“Pity I’m not gay – and Mozzie’s not also gay. We’ve been such a strong couple for so long, it would have made everything simple!”

 

He took a medium canvas and went to his easel and started to paint. As he’d said to Peter, it always soothed, calmed, nurtured him. He closed his eyes and immersed himself in the paintings he wanted to see. He’s always been able to do this. Mozzie had an incredible memory, and could recall every brush stroke of a painting in a way Neal could not – and envied. Neal could only do that if he’d copied the painting several times, practising for a forgery and then making the final, near-perfect forgery. So nearly that many were still gracing museums and galleries, private and public, more than a decade after he’d hung them.

        

But Neal had something better – from his point of view. He could feel the painting, the colours, the shapes, the atmosphere. It was as though he became the artist as he painted, he felt the emotion the artist felt as he laid the paint down. He knew, without a doubt, which portraits had been done as a chore, a job, a commission. Most artists – Neal included – could find something about a subject to love, something that brought them delight, something that gave them joy as they captured it on canvas, in stone. But sometimes a portrait was just a job.

 

Now, with this, the impression was very much more compelling. Neal thought about the expert brush-lady who had worked on his grandmother, he thought of her love of the flowers, birds, all the beauty of nature. He told her how sorry he was that he had never had the chance to meet her, to sit at her feet and learn, to revere her as a Master.

 

He became lost in the process, far more than usual.

 

Usually time acted strangely when he was painting or sculpting. Often he would start something and become engrossed and June or Mozzie would break his mood and say something like, “How can you see in here!” – and he’d look up at them and down at his work and couldn’t see anything! The light had left and he couldn’t see! The missing time he could sort of explain – it was like meditation – but being able to see perfectly one minute and hardly at all the next – that was weird!

 

With this, it was like entering another dimension entirely. And it was full of light and delight! He could hear…something. Not really singing…

 

He worked without stopping, not aware of his hand becoming tired or his back protesting. He ceased to exist other than his communing with the light, the song, the colours, the paint. At last he had to stop: he’d run out of Prussian Green, and the extra tubes of paint were on the shelving. As soon as he stood up, he nearly fell over!

 

He looked at his Earth watch.

 

“Blast! I’m late for dinner! I _have_ to clean up the brushes!” He did enough to save his brushes, cleaned his hands and forearms (somewhat) and pulled on his shirt. He jumped to his suite at June’s – she’d have to be forgiving about his stubble – changed and combed his hair into some order and ran down the stairs two at a time.

 

He hesitated on the threshold. June and Sara looked up and stopped talking, then June smiled. “Come on – I can smell the oils! Byron would get lost, too, sometimes. We ate a lot of stews and casseroles, those days!”

 

Neal went to her and kissed her cheek over her shoulder. “I know quite well why Byron loved you so! I’m sorry…time just…”

 

“Went! Exactly!” She rang the little silver bell and Colette came through with Neal’s dinner on a covered plate, smiling a little.

 

“Sorry, Sara - and sorry for putting you out, Colette. Thank you!”

 

“What were you working on?” Sara asked.

 

“A portrait for a friend,” Neal told her. “How did the new-New York compare?”

 

“I didn’t see all of it!” she smiled. “I think London was harder hit, at least the places I was acquainted with. But there are a great many changes here, too.”

 

“Did you go and see Sterling Bosch? Are they still there?”

 

“I didn’t.” She looked at him and shrugged. “It feels as though I’ve been given a second chance, almost a new life. I was telling June. If I can, I would like to make something new from this chance.”

 

Neal looked up. “Any idea what, yet?”

 

She laughed a little. “Not a clue, yet!”

 

“There’s no hurry, Sara,” June said. “You can stay here as long as you wish.”

 

“Find something you love to do, Sara!

.........."You should spend more time with Diana and Peter and El: they’re here a lot more than I am. When I am here, I’m often painting. They may know a niche left by the wars that I haven’t seen,” Neal told her. “And Peter and El are a couple of doors down. Give them a call, and if you want an escort door to door, I’ll walk you, if I’m here.”

 

“Thank you, Neal. I’m sure Peter will walk me home, after.”

 

“I’m sure they both will!”

 

 

Neal spent most of the next days painting. Sometimes it was more of a struggle: now it was pure joy, everything flowed. He wondered what made the difference.

 

Joster had gone with Lord Steel and Mozzie as part of the honour-guard. But Merritt was not without investigative skills of his own, he found Neal and soon was striving to be the perfect servant when Neal was painting, bringing him food and making sure he ate and, more importantly, drank tea and some wine and fruit juice now and then. He didn’t say very much, and only interrupted when he felt Neal needed to stretch and refresh himself.

 

At last he said, “That is seems very good, Mas – sorry! Neal, not that I am an expert!”

 

“Thank you, Merritt! You have been an enormous help! I am going to be finished these before our Lord returns, I hope. I loathe having to take a long break if things are going well…sometimes I have lost the connection by the time I have gone looking for food and returned.”

 

He finished the three large portraits in seven days and stood back to observe them. He felt a little awed. He had never had any work flow as easily as had these. He had been procrastinating about them, feeling inadequate. Now they were completed, and without strain - he was exhilarated. He was realistic about his abilities: he knew he was very good. These seemed quite a few levels of virtuosity higher than anything else he’d done.

 

“Neal,” Merritt said behind him, “these came for you today.”

 

Neal turned and took two parcels from his man, one larger than the other. They came from Sunder, and he smiled. He glanced over and had to stop himself from speaking! Merritt had his nose so close to the one portrait that Neal feared he might smear the still-wet paint. He turned to look at Neal with admiration, but said nothing.

 

Neal took his dagger and broke the seal, amused at how different he felt and acted when he was on Brethsham and when he was on Earth! He unwrapped paper and string and then unrolled embroidered cloth from the longer package, to reveal a scabbard: metal, covered in beautifully worked tooled black leather with silver relief work round the throat and chape with a locket attaching it to a matching belt, also embellished with silver. He drew the sword while Merritt watched, fascinated.

 

_Oh, it is quite beautiful! And quite heavy!_

“We would call this a ‘rapier’, Merritt. It was made to my specifications by the Sunder swordsmiths, and they have done it very well. This one is heavy, strong, They have made this in the old-fashioned style so that it can be used as a cutting weapon as well as a thrusting blade. They have made it with finger-loops for either hand, so if I am hurt I can switch hands. Feel the balance point! It is heavy, but when my hand is in the hilt-guard, it feels light!

         “The blade is inscribed with symbols of victory, and look at the gorgeous scabbard.”

 

“Neal!” Merritt said, hefting the sword. “This is a work of art! But it is very long, respectfully, especially for yourself. Will it not be awkward to wield?”

 

“It is art, Merritt, and paid them enough for it I know I have not! It is a lovely, well-balanced, strong sword – and I hope to never use it but in practice!

..............“Against full metal armour, a heavier, shorter sword is better, and in full battle, also, but I shall continue to practise – with your ongoing help – with the local swords. This, used more for piercing than slicing, will give me an advantage that may to some extent mitigate my short stature and reach. To someone unused to the rapier, a sudden thrust will perhaps change the outcome of the engagement.”

 

“You will let me try it, Neal?” Merritt asked, hopefully.

 

“No, not at all! I have to keep my secrets!” Neal said, straight-faced, then grinned at the expression on the young man’s face. “Of course you may try it, Merritt. But – when I am there, please? I am gloating over my new sword, and jealous of her still!”

 

“Have you named her yet?” Merritt asked, cheering up.

 

“Not yet! I will have to be struck by inspiration!”

 

Since there was no sign of his Lord or Mozzie, and it was still only just after mid-day, Neal dressed in some finery and, taking a sheaf of papers and the smaller parcel, jumped to Camber’s foyer.

 

He walked up to the guards, who were looking out towards the gate and said, “Sorry to bother you, Cambermen…” and they both jumped. “The Chiri brought me, but had to leave. I am here to ask a favour from your bakers, but I think I shall go and see Phrynee first!

...........“But before that I should pay my respects to whomever of the Keeper’s family is in residence.”

 

The guards nodded, a little startled. Then the one said, “Lord Camber is in his study, Heir of Steel. I can take you there, should you wish.”

 

“No need. I have been there often! I shall go and speak to him! Thank you!”

 

_Once more often than even Camber knows! Though he must suspect!_

He walked with his long, easy stride through the Keep, reaching the Lord’s study. The door, as usual, was closed, and even more in this weather which had turned colder. He knocked and the Lord called, “Come in!” and Gestil opened the door.

 

“Gestil! Hallo! Lord Camber! How good to see you again!” Neal said, stepping into the room. “I hope I am not interrupting anything important, I came to ask a boon of your bakers!”

 

“Neal! Come here, son!” Camber said, came forward and hugged him tightly. “You are so brave! You waited not for our thanks, Neal, after ridding us of those plants and their captors! I expected a visit, and have just sent off a letter to your father!”

 

“I expected not to see you, Lord – I thought you would be at The House, being bored! And I did all that not alone!”

 

The Lord chuckled. “I sent my eldest son Sherdon and my wife: it is not the most important of House-Gatherings. He has to learn…he will be better than I am, to tell you truly!

         “I did not see you when you visited to collect the plants, but we all heard the stories. Or rumours. Please tell me the truth about what happened…I shall have some wine sent! Gestil? Can you call to the kitchen?”

 

So much had happened that the death-by-flowers seemed distant and dim, but Neal was a raconteur, he loved to entertain with words and pictures! So he told Lord Camber everything, again downplaying his own part in all that had happened. After all, he had merely walked through a passageway. Mozzie, June, Lira – everyone else had actually done more while he slept!

 

“So you and Mozzie have proven your worth as sons and heirs to Steel Keep, Neal!”

 

“We have done nothing for him compared to what he has done for us, Lord Camber!”

 

The Lord just smiled, but Neal insisted. “You probably have never felt as unwanted and unworthy as a new slave on an alien slave ship: we had no idea what these beings from another planet might want with us, might do to us! We were hurt, starved, filthy. Yet my Lord Steel saw us as humans.”

 

“Of course! I can only imagine the terror and despair, Neal, I wish not to make light of it!”

 

“I apologise, Lord Camber. I would never have anyone think less of my Lord than they ought!”

 

“So, you said you wished to ask our bakers for some special dish?”

 

Neal showed him what he had brought and talked with the very accommodating Lord at some length.

 

_This dying and saving other people is a better con than many others I have tried!_

 

 

He still didn’t want to jump straight to Sunder. He jumped back home and changed, and looked at his paintings again. He had not been wrong: these were good, better than any of his previous work. Was it because of the flowers…his close brush with death gave his brushes more life? Being ‘dead’, going to ‘Heaven’ …

 

_Why am I thinking in inverted commas? I was dead, that was Byron, that was Heaven! I wonder why I saw him, and not Kate…oh, perhaps I wouldn’t have come back. She may not have been the woman for me, but she’d sure make a pretty angel! Oh, yeah!_

_That would be an interesting set of portraits…June and Byron in white, feathery wings. Rachel, all in black, bat’s wings, pure, gleaming black snake coiled round her feet and a sniper’s rifle with a huge scope!_

_Sara…hmm…white, but lacy, frothy, slightly translucent where the sun shines through, backlit, just a hint of something…not completely pure…_

_Alex: burgundy, skin-tight, origami flower, matching cat!…yeah. I could paint Alex!_

_I’m thinking Frazetta, again!_

He was enjoying the images that flowed and morphed across his vision…but it wasn’t a bad idea. Portraits of all his Known Associates…but keeping their identities a secret from anyone but the subject, and perhaps a few close friends!

 

He thought of Alex again, their last conversation. He wanted her to call…which man doesn’t want to know that a gorgeous woman wants him?...but when he thought of Alex, it was always ephemeral. He regretted it when she left, but wouldn’t he regret her over-staying her welcome more?

 

_We never had much of a chance. Do we try, or do we keep the good memories we have, not risk having newer, bad ones?_

 

_I shall stop thinking about it. She won’t call. If she does, we’ll see what happens. But I don’t think she’s going to call. She’s as wary about getting hurt as I am, perhaps more, and she doesn’t seem to have any need for a man – one man – in her life. Good for you, Alex! Enjoy your life while you can! Meanwhile, I am going to go round and build some fires!_

He did, and walked in at a request from Tammy to find Diana there as well as Tammy and Theo.

 

After quick and friendly hugs, Diana said, “I saw Sara today! She’s always been striking, and she told me you and June helped her pick out some clothing…oh, Neal, if I wasn’t gay and happily married with the cutest baby ever born, I’d marry you just for the _shoes!”_

Neal and Tammy laughed. Neal said, raising his eyebrows, “I can take you two out shoe shopping, I have absolutely no problem escorting two married women…even if they are married to each other! We can drop Theo off at June’s…!

...........“And I have absolutely nothing against looking at pretty women’s feet…or the pretty feet of women! I’ll be the envy of every male on the planet!”

 

“Yeah – especially if they saw you with June and Sara a week ago!”

 

“Nah,” Neal shrugged. “Then I just look like a rake!”

 

Tammy interrupted Diana’s riposte with, “The ear bugs are saying something...surely you are not thin enough to be a garden stick…?”

 

Neal laughed and said in Sheel, “Apologies, we should speak Sheel, Tamlin! The English word ‘rake’ is a person, usually a man, burdened with few morals.”

 

“We-ell, you are a _criminal_ ,” Diana said.

 

“I steal, forge and con…allegedly. I do not break women’s hearts!”

 

“No,” Diana admitted. “From what I have seen, rather the opposite!”

 

“Punched so often, it has become pliable and mushed – and therefore bruisable but unbreakable.”

 

“So Sara? She became very fond of you, on Earth, before she left for the U.K.?”

 

Neal made a face. “I love Sara. I love her almost as much as I love you, Di! And I think she is as likely a mate for me, long term, as you are. She and I are just too different.”

 

“Even now? You’re much more settled and...law abiding? …now.”

 

“Especially now. The slavery, my loyalty to our Lord, being heir here, jumping back and forth?

............“And I am _not_ law abiding! I have just been very busy!”

 

Diana laughed at him. “How you and Peter did not murder each other…!”

 

“Saved by humour…mostly on my part. A little on his!”

 

Diana said, “Look not like that, Tam!” She turned to Neal, “Tammy likes not our Peter!”

 

“He is nice to you, Diana. He was not nice to Neal.” Tammy’s mouth was set.

 

“Oh, that bad he is not, Tam,” Neal said. “Especially as recently I have seen nothing of him! I like to think he cared for me – a great deal, at first, anyway.

..........“I should build your fires and go on – there are many to be done!

..........“Oh – _Tammy!_ Does that mean my Lord is here?”

 

“He is leaving the House tomorrow. I am not staying the night, just wait to see Diana and Theo for another night I could not, and he told me to take a candlemark or two! I am going back soon.”

 

“It is such a pity that jump regularly we can not, for fear of alerting bad people to such an ability. At least we can use it to go back and forth to Earth, or be faced with the old decision of where we want to live!”

 

Neal went to sleep in his rooms at Steel. In the middle of the night he had a dream about Peter – the first ever since the man had been chasing him all those years ago. The dream was short, flashes of times they shared, a smile, a scowl, a hand held out to help or hug or capture…and then Neal was standing on a cold, wind-swept air-field and it was Peter waiting for him in the plane and he turned and there was Kate. Wanting him to come back to her – and then the plane exploded in a fireball. Neal woke up, startled.

 

_How odd. Looking back, I always thought it was Mozzie versus Peter! Hmm…_

He fell asleep easily enough, but the next day the dream-feeling haunted him until he hung the earlier portraits and started a new one. Medium sized. He enjoyed doing it, it was cathartic, and though he didn’t go into a deep creative state, he was very pleased with the quality of his technique.

 

Merritt came in as the light faded, bringing him tea and wondering if _he_ should start the fires.

 

“No, I will go and do them before the evening meal, Merritt. Thank you for the tea.”

 

“That is Peter, yes?”

 

“Yes, that is Peter. Joster knew him quite well.”

 

“He was your friend?”

 

“He and I…occupied many different rôles in relation to each other, Merritt! I try and remember the times when they were good, beneficial: love, friendship.”

 

“You have anger towards him.”

 

“Have you any empathy, Merritt? I thought I was hiding it, if I felt it at all!”

 

“Yes, our paternal grandmother was half-Laffay, so both Joster and I are somewhat empathic, but it seldom works when we most want it to: as when we are spending time with girls!”

 

Neal laughed with him. “You need more than mere empathy to understand women, Merritt!

         “I should go!”

 

The next day, Neal taught the eager Merritt to prepare canvases, all the steps that made the difference. Neal felt unfamiliar, working with anyone other than Mozzie! But if Merritt could, and wanted to, do some of the tedious bits and let them have more time to be creative, it would be very pleasant. Merritt – either in truth or by extremely clever guile - appeared delighted to be asked to help Neal, and Neal rather wished paintings were like books, and he could dedicate a painting to him…well, why not! He could add a notation with the title of the painting. It was his painting, and he’d invent a new fashion!

 

Keeping an eye on his industrious man, Neal started another painting. This was fun! He was smiling, humming to himself, picking out colours, planning. He wondered if Merritt would varnish his paintings…could he trust him with the finishing touches, which could protect or destroy a painting? He had always had Mozzie to do some of that, but that seemed unfair. He’d used Moz too often, calling on him without warning and without adequate compensation!

 

He soon had three new paintings on the go at once. Merritt got him to stop and go to the mid-day meal, and he smiled to himself: Merritt, if left unchecked, could become quite as bossy as Moz was when he thought he knew best! And usually, Neal allowed himself to be bossed about the non-essentials. It left him free, no worries about all the aspects Moz would take on himself.

 

After the meal, they took horses and rode out for an hour through the deepening darkness. He would have liked to have gone to Earth for a swim, but the horses needed exercising, too!

_When Merritt has gone, this evening, I’ll jump back to the gym and work out properly. I should stop at June’s, anyway, see if Alex has contacted her._

By the end of the day after next Neal had hung four new unframed pictures, keeping them out of harm’s way while they dried. He went and looked at each, and Merritt walked with him, looking over the shorter man’s shoulder.

 

“These are unusual, Neal,” his man said. “Are you trying to divulge or conceal?”

 

“Both!” he smiled up at the puzzled man. “And the fact that you have perceived that is good!”

 

He stood in front of the ‘portrait’ of Alex, and wondered. June had heard nothing. But he should give Alex more time. She had _never_ put herself in the position for any man to propose, truthfully propose? That seemed as sad as the fact that Neal had never proposed, not even come close to it with anyone – even Kate.

 

_We shouldn’t give up love for the Life…surely the Life should give us more freedoms? Moz has found love, so has Sal. Byron did, with June. I’m not settling for less than everything._

 

Then he knew that the Steel contingent was arriving! He nodded at Merritt and they ran down the corridors and through the galleries, down to the stableyard, where the Lord and Mozzie, about twenty soldiers and Tammy were all dismounting. Diana was there to greet her lover, Theo was gurgling a hello.

 

Merritt went to his brother, Neal hugged Mozzie, who looked a little tired, and then his Lord.

 

“Was it awful, Moz?” he asked.

 

“It would have been quite dreadful, but we kept them on their toes, so there was a great deal of quiet amusement, Neal! You would have hated it!”

 

“Are there lots of valuables in the House?” Neal demanded, and Mozzie shook his head. “Not that many. Most are in the Royal Palace!”

 

“Ah-hah!” Neal grinned.

 

“Stop it, you two! Have you been good, or as usual, Neal!”

 

“My Lord, that is just not fair, to ask for a confession so soon after returning!” Neal chuckled.

 

“Can you go and fetch Sally, Neal?” Mozzie said. “I do need to talk to our Lord, but I have been missing her – and I really need to bath!”

 

“I have a little surprise for you, my Lord, when you have bathed and eaten and when you have a candlemark. Perhaps tomorrow morning.”

 

Steel looked at Neal with incredible misgiving and unease. “Care to give me a hint, Neal? Your surprises are very often…unsettling is the mildest word I can think of using!”

 

“I think you will be happy, my Lord!” Neal smiled sunnily.

 

“Oh, _dear!_ When you give me that guileless look I become _thoroughly_ worried!”

 

“Have I ever lied to you, my Lord?”

 

“Several times, Neal!”

 

“Oh, that is true. I had forgotten! It is _Peter_ I never lied to…to-his-face lies, anyway!”

 

“Poor Peter,” Steel chuckled. “He missed some of your most creative moments!”

 

“Come, Caerrovon, these sons will keep you talking for hours, and you need to bathe and dress and eat! And then get to bed not too late!” Brak told him, and Neal grinned, thinking of his bossy Merritt- and Mozzie-helpers!

 

Neal bounced off to get Sally. He had been missing Moz and Steel…even if he didn’t see them all the time, he liked to be able to see them at any time! He wanted to talk to Mozzie about Alex!

 

Sally was sitting reading, and stood up quickly when Neal appeared.

         “Is everything all right, Neal?”

 

“Yes – except one Moz Dante Haversham is missing his beautiful wife – or whatever you like to call yourself!”

 

“I’m so glad, Neal! Glad he’s missing me, and glad he didn’t get taken out and shot at this House place. I can’t imagine him talking politics to politicians! Let me go through and change!”

 

Neal looked at what she was reading. It was a paper with the title:

 

_‘MAINTAINING QUBITS SUPERPOSITION CAPABILITIES AT PRACTICAL TEMPERATURES’_

scribbled above a printed scientific paper.

“I thought computers were dead, Sally!” Neal called through.

 

“Not forever! Once a technology is discovered, and then lost, there are always some people who are addicted to retrieving it. A quantum computer would be the way to go.”

 

“Mmm.”

 

“Not your thing,” she asked, coming through in Brethsham garb.

 

“No, one of my very not-things.”

 

“Mozzie and I share enough of the electronics, computers, maths…and we can appreciate the areas in the other where we aren’t up on things. We both love the clean technologies you two have brought here, and would actively fight against technology and people destroying that to gain power and control.”

 

“Come, Sal! I am so glad for both of you!”

 

Mozzie was just emerging, be-robed, from the shower when they arrived in the suite Neal and Moz shared. Neal bowed to Sally and, grinning sympathetically, bowed himself out, saying “Don’t be too long, you two!” – and leaving them to their privacy.

 

He went to the study and after a little while Steel and Brak joined him.

 

“So, son – you settled Sara at June’s house?”

 

“I did. They are getting along well. We all went shopping to buy clothes for Sara, as she has so little. I think she enjoyed it!”

 

“And you? You are happy to have found an old friend? She is very pretty, Neal.”

 

“She is, she is a good friend, and no, there is nothing more to the relationship, my Lord.”

 

“I thought there had been, Neal?”

 

“There was, but it was a long time ago, my Lord. We have both changed. I do not think it would have been a perfect match – perhaps, if I had trusted Peter more and more and settled into his type of life, _and_ if the world had not changed so drastically.

...........“But my life is so very unconventional now…no. I did feel a great deal of attraction, because before she left for a far country she and I had fun together, we were lovers for a while. Then I realised she was not right for me, as I am today.”

 

“I am sorry. I know how hard it is to find the right woman, Neal!”

 

“I want to talk to you about that. And the fact that of the three of us _Mozzie_ is happily attached - ! You may not see the humour, but he never had a girlfriend while I went through …four? None of mine lasted and his looks as though he has found his partner-for-life. I very earnestly hope so!”

 

“Now, what is this surprise, Neal?”

 

“Um…I think it is late, my Lord. Mozzie may also still wish to talk to you. Let us leave it till tomorrow?”

 

“Scared of admitting to something?” the Lord chuckled, and Neal smiled and shook his head.

 

“I am a little …apprehensive. I hope you will be pleased with the surprise; I think you will!”

 

“Give me a hug, then, son, and I will see your surprise tomorrow after the first meal!”

 

 

 

 

 

End of Chapter 31

 

Don't write and tell me rapiers weren't ever cutting weapons! From what I can see, almost every style of non-cruciform, long, slender sword predating the sports foils and such of today's stylized fencing could have been called a rapier at some time of their history...and some of them at least had enough of an edge to dissuade an opponent grabbing them, and often more! ...or they were just called a sword! But rapier sounds so much more dramatic, and Neal's would have been an early 'rapier', before they devolved into mere duelling swords, though swords were more often named by use.

 

Let me know you're reading! And I seem to have several typos: please alert me if you notice!

 

 

 


	32. Perceived Images

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Painting and other impressions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NOTE (NOW OUT OF DATE: MATTY WON YAY!): Go and vote for Matt and WC at the People's Choice Awards Website...unlimited voting till Thursday, just go back to these two categories and vote! We know they made mistakes...let's show them their biggest mistake was cancelling the show! I would love Matt and WC (ESPECIALLY AS IT'S UP AGAINST SUITS - it that a Dramedy?!!!) to win their categories! I think : paste and go:
> 
> http://vote.peopleschoice.com/#!/home/all/81/2
> 
> http://vote.peopleschoice.com/#!/home/all/40/2
> 
> I cannot understand why Graceland (total av 2.6M total viewers ) is not cancelled, and WC :Season five was among the top five most-watched basic cable series on Thursday nights in the first quarter and total viewers P2+ (4.46 million) is. And though Matt can thank JE, JE should be thanking the WC cast - he's always credited as JE (White Collar) in the articles I've seen! Both Matt and WC are yet again nominated, no Graceland anywhere I saw!

 

 

 

The next morning Neal, emotionally hovering between excitement and nervousness, led his Lord and Mozzie, along with Brak, Joster and Merritt (smiling broadly, and irritating Neal who wasn’t at all sure if that level of smiles was appropriate: Mozzie had always been his harshest critic, and he was pleased that he had, but still disliked the criticism!), Diana and Tammy and Theo.

 

Next to the large portrait of Caerrovon’s mother hung three other, covered, same-sized frames. Mozzie grinned a little to himself, wondering what his friend had done. Despite what Neal often thought, Mozzie was his harshest critic _and_ his sincerest and most enthusiastic supporter! They all stood in front of the frames and Neal had a sudden and silly impulse to run! Even if he did, he couldn’t take all the paintings with him!

 

He first uncovered the one closest to his grandmother’s portrait and there was a hissing sound of amazement, for Neal had copied her…Mozzie, of course, immediately called it to himself the best forgery he’d ever seen, for it was! The audience looked back and forth between the two, quite astounded, except Merritt and Neal, who studied their faces.

 

“Do you think it would have fooled Lord Betchem, my Lord?” chuckled Neal, much encouraged by their reaction.

 

“If any painting could have, Neal, it would have been this one!” Steel said, almost reverently. “I can hardly believe it!”

 

There was a great deal of chatter, but Neal could read crowds as another might read a billboard: they were admiring, enthusiastic.

 

“You are a great artist, Neal,” Diana said, softly.

 

“Diana, this is a copy…what you and Peter call a forgery, remember?”

 

Mozzie grinned to himself.

 

“Well,” Diana’s brow furrowed, “you know, I think this is very much more challenging than painting something original. It isn’t as though there’s an idea that you invented – like ‘¾ of Ten’. This is a beautiful woman. Sonsharelitha copied the original woman, you copied Sonsharelitha – but did it perfectly. If you had just done another portrait, your own style, all you are doing is making a good representation of the woman. Nothing wrong with that, but I think this shows your abilities more! Here every detail has to be precise! And as for an abstract – some of those are done in a few minutes, and I know because there was a guy who did them on TV, and charged three thousand bucks a pop!”

 

Neal grinned at her. “Thank you. You aren’t quite accurate: copying a painting, where someone has already taken a three-dimensional image and made it two, placed the shadows and so on _is_ easier than working from a live subject. It almost certainly took me less time to paint the figure than it did Sonsharelitha – but yes, trying to copy exactly, get the same technique, the exact same tints and hues, the same effects can be extremely difficult – with this artist especially.

         “I almost felt I wasn’t working alone, though – as though she was pleased, was helping me.”

 

“What else is here, Neal?” Joster demanded.

 

Neal pulled off the second covering while saying, “Most of you will not recognise this lady, but she is the - ”

 

“She is my aunt, Lithalialista!” Steel broke in, amazed. “Lord Betchem’s mother! How did you paint her…she died before my mother, she was much older!”

 

“They have no large painting of her, my Lord, so I thought it only fair. I painted her holding Ethlan as a baby, since there are no paintings of them together. There are small paintings of her, some groups…I have tried to do her justice from what I learned of her from those. It is not worth as much as their gift to us, but think you they will not be insulted?”

 

“They will not be – and if they were, I would go to war with Betchem!” Steel told him, shaking his hand. “Your work is magnificent, Neal!”

 

“Come on – there’s another one!” Diana exclaimed, bouncing Theo, who gurgled in delight. “Even he knows the beauty of these works.”

 

This last was the one Neal was most concerned about. He had not asked permission….He pulled the fabric off and the gasp was louder this time. He had painted his Lord – not in court dress, as would have been more the custom, but in his casual riding gear, all mauves and greys, his hair blown softly by the wind, his favourite stallion, eyes bright and ears forward, at his shoulder. Caerrovon was smiling to himself, scanning the horizon, walking towards the viewer.

 

“You have not a portrait of yourself as an – oof!” Neal’s breath was taken away by an unexpected hug from Lord Steel, who lifted him off his feet, then put him down and turned again to the portraits.

 

“You mastered Sonsharelitha’s style, Neal, and incorporated it into your own – except the two ladies, it is right that they should be as close to her style as possible! These are truly _lovely!”_

 

“Mind you do not, my Lord? I will, of course, do another in full regalia, but this is how I always think of you, this energy.”

 

“I am more pleased than I can express in words, Neal.”

 

Neal could hear his total sincerity, and felt that all is hard work was repaid. He loved his father and had finally given him something worthwhile, the best he could do.

 

Everyone was commending the paintings, walking back and forth, but Neal’s eyes were on Mozzie. No-one else here could completely understand, or was in a position to evaluate his work: of course the others thought them marvellous, none of them could sketch an apple!

 

Mozzie didn’t say anything. He took a half-step closer to Neal and, without looking at him, took his hand and squeezed it, then glanced up with a half-smile and walked away, letting the others get a closer look.

 

Neal felt warmed through and through, as though his heart was bursting. Mozzie had always given a commentary, his opinion – usually several paragraphs! Sometimes pages and pages! – and though he may give Neal some advice, later, if he truly hadn’t been impressed, he would have quietly or even silently let Neal know that: – ‘Hey, good try, let’s get it right next time.’

 

“You are giving Lord Betchem and Betchem Keep the copy of my mother and also your painting of her sister?”

 

“That was the plan…and not exactly _giving_ the one of her sister! I want to ask them a favour, and perhaps it would be better coming from you, my Lord!”

 

“Which do you think is better, Sonsharelitha’s or Neal’s, Lord Steel?” Diana asked, going back and forth between them, looking closely at the ladies’ feet, studying details as she would a crime scene! Steel smiled, stood back and surveyed the two. “Neal’s is incredibly close, I can hardly tell the difference. I think – just perhaps – Sonsharelitha has caught the light a miniscule fraction better; the likeness is astounding, and since  Neal’s style it is not, I am awed.”

 

“I think Master Neal’s is far better!” spoke up Joster loyally, and Merritt nodded, glancing crossly at his Lord.

 

“I am grateful for your honestly, my Lord! I do not ask for flattery!”

 

“You must bring June here to see these before you take them, Neal!” Lord Steel ordered. “I am almost loathe to part with any of them. Would it be foolish to keep yours, _your_ one of my grandmother? After all, you are kin!”

 

“We-ell, so was Sonsharelitha, though I am not sure how close!” Neal smiled. “Trust me, even if I had painted her far better, the one by the master artist is worth more! And you yourself admitted it is not quite as good as that one that has been hanging there for a while.”

 

“And I am no great artist or critic of the same, Neal!” Lord Steel argued. “I can hardly see dissimilarities…now I walk a little this way, the light looks identical - and I would like yours here. And it would secure the favour you wish to ask…or…”

 

“…or annoy Lord Betchem that we had spurned his gift,” Neal finished, seeing doubts pass over his Lord’s face. “I am gratified by your sentiment, but I think we should send him my two efforts.”

 

 

 

By now a larger crowd of other Steel Keep slaves had gathered, discussing Neal’s pictures.

 

“Which is the original Sonsharelitha?” Ophera asked, bewildered.

 

“You see the original carved wood frame, Ophera?” Neal pointed out. “Mozzie helped and made plaster-on-wood copies. Hopefully Betchem will feel my work worthy of spending the enormous number of man-hours to make a matching wooden frame for his mother’s portrait.”

 

“But did she not sign her work?” Mozzie asked, looking back.

 

“No, she rightly believed that anyone would know her style and gift immediately,” Neal answered.

 

“Well, you will have to sign yours, Neal, because now she _can_ be mistaken for another, just as gifted artist!” Steel told him.

 

“I will. I just wanted to leave it off at first, as a trick!” Neal smiled up at him.

 

“Come, I have much to tell you, Mozzie!” Neal said. “Are you busy, my Lord?”

 

“Yes. Sorry, son! I have been away, many slaves wish my advice or judgements about issues, Neal! One day I will ask you two to join me; for now, enjoy yourselves!”

 

 

Neal and Mozzie walked down the corridors towards their own, private group of rooms.

 

“Now, Neal,” Mozzie said, raising an eyebrow, “do not try to con _me!”_

“What do you mean, Moz!” Neal asked, all innocence.

 

“They are near identical, it is true – but it is _your_ portrait of our grandmother in the wooden frame!”

 

Neal laughed. “It is! The smell?”

 

“The smell. But, Neal – truly – your work is glorious.”

 

“Mozzie! Thank you!” Neal felt genuinely humbled.

 

“I think, mon frère, that it is time you gathered some original works and we put on an exhibition on Earth.”

 

“Me, Moz?”

 

“Yes, you! Everyone there knows you as a great copyist. Time for you to take your rightful place with the other greats. I know your work has hung side-by-side with many other artists whose names would be recognised by almost any Earthling, but now your work should hang with them with your very own name on the canvas, or whatever medium you are using.”

 

“You think it is time?”

 

“Oh, Neal – you keep improving, you know that – but it was time a decade ago or more! But we needed money, so I had you continue forging, which was a delight for me, to see you work and – then you were in prison, then with the Feds, then we were here.”

 

“Seriously, Mozzie?”

 

“I think you know by now when I am joking!”

 

“Not always, no!” Neal’s forehead accordioned momentarily,

 

“I am most definitely _not_ joking. I was not sure which was which till I got very close. And you got Caerrovon to say – I’m sure against his own personal desire – that yours was the superior work! He thought he was choosing Sonsharelitha’s picture!”

 

Neal laughed, and Mozzie watched him with pleasure. “You are very much happier, confident, Neal?”

 

“Yes. I told you dying suited me!”

 

“And people say I’m odd!”

 

“Aren’t you pleased that we get to go to Heaven?”

 

Mozzie asked, cautiously, “Are we allowed to forge and steal and con in Heaven?”

 

“I think we all get to do what we like in Heaven, without hurting others which we’ve never liked to do anyway! Perhaps there will be special museums and galleries and palatial homes just for people like us to rob – very difficult jobs, but owned by no-one, or perhaps everyone!”

 

“You are the most optimistic criminal I have ever met!”

 

“Yep! Why shouldn’t it be set up for that? It’s supposed to be huge and wonderful – for everyone! Why not us?”

 

They reached their rooms and Neal asked, suddenly serious, “Moz, do you think we should do these rooms up for us? It seems silly to take over the heirs’ suites, and then, when Steel has children of his own…”

 

“I agree! That’s a perfect idea! They’ll need quite a bit of doing up!”

 

“Our Lord would be happy to have it done for us, or help us. I think he feels a little …um…snubbed, that we like our old, dusty rooms here, and nothing fancy.”

 

“They’re not dusty where we work!” Mozzie exclaimed. “Well, apart from the wine!”

 

Neal laughed. “I told him just that. But there could be two suites of rooms and all these work-rooms, closets, this big studio. I think they’re better than the heirs’ quarters.”

 

“I suppose.” Mozzie looked a little sad. “They were like some of the warehouses and barns and dungeons – that nice dry culvert system? – that we appropriated and used for our nefarious deeds.”

 

“And they _were_ like that, only now quite a few people know about them.”

 

“Yeah. I guess I can keep my study locked…or move down in the second dungeon.”

 

“Which would have the advantage of giving us ample warning if someone else moves assassinating plants in next to you!”

 

“I like a lot of these changes we’ve experienced, but I also still like my privacy!”

 

“I know, Moz. We need to remember the past, remember the skills we gained through hard work and experience. But let’s not be too tied to the past.”

 

“Yeah, okay! Come on, let’s open a bottle of wine and you can show me your other work.”

 

“You know me too well – and here’s a bottle – I know you, too!”

 

“Oh, you have done a lot of work on stretching canvases…hmm…not your work. Definitely not mine!”

 

“I’m training Merritt.”

 

“Needs practice!”

 

“He’s very enthusiastic! They’re good enough if I’m doing my own work and not forging!”

 

“Hmm…”

 

“I’m not going to throw them away!”

 

“So – here’s your new stuff…oh, very good! What do you call it?”

 

“Thinking of a couple of things.”

 

Mozzie was standing in front of the picture of Peter. He had one hand out, about to shake the hand of a man out-of-frame, his hand, the lean of his body and expression welcoming. But the other hand was tucked behind his back, next to a Glock stuck in his waistband and his hand-cuffs. He was wearing a fedora. The painting was light, bright, mostly touches of clear blues and greys, some black and a lot of whites.

 

“More abstract than Sonsharelitha!”

 

“Yeah, I wanted that world-is-slightly-shaking feeling. I felt that when I stuck out my hand and Burke took it. No obvious background. Just the man.”

 

“Names?”

 

“’Beware of Predators’? ‘Don’t Feed the Lions’?”

 

“LEO’s are aptly named, are they not? The hat? Trying to lure you in by pretending to be like you?”

 

“No – I was also a predator, Moz.”

 

“Mmm – see that. But you just stole money and jewels and paintings. Not years and hope, trust and love.”

 

“If someone has to work for the painting, and I steal it – I’ve stolen those years.”

 

“Don’t put them in a cement-and-iron cage for those years, though, do you – and can you honestly tell me of one person’s goods you stole who personally sweated for them?”

 

Neal laughed a little, ruefully. “Yeah, quite a few – Curtis Hagen, for one!”

 

Mozzie’s glasses flashed questioningly.

 

“The Spanish Bonds…he did a huge amount of planning and work and a beautiful forgery. I ripped him off and sent him to a little cement cage. He would never have been caught without me.”

 

“I know you were always ambivalent about that sort of thing.”

 

“It was for Kate, it was to stay out of prison myself. But that’s pretty selfish. Almost as bad as Keller killing the third man. Never do it again, Moz. Not for my own freedom.”

 

“You’ll never have to…

         “…So you see yourself as the same type of two-faced lying bastard as Peter?”

 

“Yeah, though despite what he did later on I think that’s a bit harsh, Moz. There were phases when we were real friends…or, damn it, it seemed that way!

         “I was part con, part Fed. Put away a lot of hard-working crooks. _You_ know – I don’t mind the kidnappers, murderers, crazy people. But Curtis Hagen? The Copy-cat Caffreys? I shouldn’t have dirtied my hands! The Baseball scam – _you_ saved Gordon Taylor and I thank you most earnestly! A true gentleman! Such a pro should never be caught by something as tacky as an infiltration by other criminals.”

 

“Hagen came after you pretty hard later on.”

 

“Yeah, and _I_ wouldn’t have – but you would have if someone had pulled that trick on _me!”_

“Yeah. You’re right.

         “So you were part con, part Fed - and Peter was part Fed, part con?”

 

“Pulled a con on _me!”_

 

“I like it. In a dark, brooding, evil, sad kind of way. The lightness is all a con, isn’t it?”

 

“Mmm.”

 

“Oh, this one I know!” Mozzie was grinning as he moved further. This painting was dark…but not gloomy-dark or scary dark: exciting dark reds, some greens, lots of Prussian blue shadows creating exaggerated perspective. There was a girl there, but all that could be seen was that unusual concave facial line, a dark eye, a curl of hair…directly forward into the light came a beautiful, slender, adept hand holding an origami lily, offered, like the hand in the previous painting, but without a hidden agenda. No malice, almost tentative. Mozzie nodded. Somehow Neal had caught that perfectly.

 

The next was almost completely obsidian, the eye drawn to the upper right, where an unusual, blurred, bland full-face stick-mask in stark white was the only bright thing on the canvas, held with what looked like a black-gloved hand that faded into the background. Then the viewer started to see that in the black on black crouched a woman, made of crystal or glass, only an edge here and there catching a gleam of light. The eye then searched, determined to make patterns, finding a little of her here, a little there, losing the knee when the shoulder was found, it was that subtle.

 

“Rachel!” hissed Mozzie. And then, “God, Neal – she’s all but invisible – and the mask isn’t only a mask at all, it’s a stick of cotton candy! Neal – it’s brilliant, and brilliantly executed!”

 

Then there was Sara, a smart, fashion-plate of a very successful businesswoman, amber suit and vintage tortoiseshell accessories, tilted hat with slanted brim, wrist-length matching gloves. Everything about her spoke of being confident and chic, except her haunted eyes looking backwards over one shoulder.

 

“Never saw that. Poor Sara,” Mozzie said.

 

“I don’t know exactly what happened to Sara before I ever met her, but she was controlling, hard, sarcastic. Peter admired her, thought she was an assertive career woman, but that wasn’t assertion, it was aggression. Hmm…perhaps Peter doesn’t recognise the difference!

...........“She was never going to be the one hurt. Children aren’t born that way. Something hurt her.”

 

“I think whatever makes you a great conman makes you a great artist: getting under people’s masks, their façades and exposing them – either to your own sticky fingers, or the viewers of your artwork.”

 

“Thank you, Moz! Don’t know if I should show you the next one…it’s not quite finished.”

 

Mozzie gave him a Mozzie-Look, and walked round the easel. It was Mozart, the teddy-bear, glasses and all, sitting looking cute and innocent, a bit battered by life, and yet still cuddly. But the eyes, slightly obscured by reflection off the spectacles, were intent and conveyed a wealth of intelligence. Easily within reach was a banana, a splayed pack of playing cards, several 2 inch circular saw blades with vicious teeth and a toy wine bottle, empty and on its side.

 

“That’s how you see me, is it? And I assume the banana is Russian surplus?”

 

“And the playing cards have hidden blades! No, _I_ don’t see you as the cuddly bear, though that is part of the real Mozzie! – but I think perhaps the average human does. Under-estimates you!

         “’You’re free as the roaring tide, so there’s no need to hide’ – but you always will, part of you, always. Hide behind your persona. Your destroyer hides within your victim, mine behind a smile!”

 

“I’m glad you painted him, my familiar. I gave him to Theo, you know.”

 

“Yeah. Now we have his picture.”

 

“Yeah – time you had your own show.”

 

“Thank you, Moz. But none of these are for sale!”

 

“Have to get over that!”

 

“They’re like – it’s like they’re - ”

 

“Part of you, your children! Yes, that I get. But I still want some you are prepared to sell!”

 

“Didn’t think you’d understand.”

 

“I was painting, as Michelangelo said to Picasso when he got to heaven, before you were even born!”

 

“That’s a lie!” Neal objected.

 

Mozzie chuckled, “I was! Mr Jeffries gave me poster paints and sat me by his feet when I was just a toddler!”

 

Neal poured the wine and they sat in their lop-sided, comfy, tattered couches and sipped. “I saw a lot of Sara, got her some clothes and things. I need to take her to get some more.”

 

“You and she…”

 

“No. Not right.

............“And then in walked Alex, told me she was marrying a duke and walked out. _Very_ theatrical!”

 

“A _duke?_ _Alex?”_

 

“Yeah, she told me she wanted to dance with a duke when we were getting that hell-and-bedamned music box. She was a duke’s plus one at the Consulate party.”

 

“Ah. So she saw you with Sara and made her getaway in an unembarrassed way! She always liked saving face!”

 

“Yep. So I went to her later that night and proposed.”

 

Mozzie spluttered and almost lost a drop or two of the wine. “You _what?”_

 

“Well, I did. We both have more reservations than several airlines put together. But of all the women I know… _oh,_ and she had a message to me from Rachel.”

 

Mozzie had a hard time not losing more than a few drops this time – he only just managed not to have it come out of his nose! **_“What!”_**

_“_ Yeah – guess what! Rachel ended up here - well, at Trent. A Chiri, don’t know which one, healed her, and she says she’s fine now. She told me she loved me – through Alex – and that she would leave me and my friends and family alone.”

 

“Yeah, she was just fine when she poisoned me, too!”

 

“I’m not trusting her, Moz. I’m just telling you – I need to speak to Lira and check the story. But she knew things that Alex wouldn’t have known and certainly Alex thought it was all bunk.”

 

“So between the duke-fiancé and the love of _somebody’s_ life, Rachel, (probably only her mother!) you and Alex decided to tie the knot. And they say romance is dead!”

 

“I asked her to think it over. We’d need a while to patch things up, you know. We’ve never been close for long, but she’s a great fence and thief, and we’re…good…in bed and she’s loving.”

 

“I always thought she loved you and if there hadn’t been a Kate…”

 

“Exactly, but there was. And then a Peter, and a Sara and a Rebecca. But of all of them, Alex is the best.”

 

“Not a _wonderfully_ high recommendation for a life of wedded bliss…”

 

“No. I was just trying to be fair on both of us. And it will be a long engagement, if we get engaged. We have to both be sure. I’m pretty sure she won’t phone, to be honest.”

 

“You’ve been busy!”

 

“Mmm.” Neal cocked his head on one side and looked a little embarrassed.

 

“All these women, no sex?”

 

“Close, but, as they say, no cigar.”

 

“Sometimes a cigar is just a cigar.”

 

Neal strove to change the subject! “We’re quite rich, now, are we not, Moz?”

 

“Very.”

 

“Would it be ..okay…to give Alex some of the treasure, if she won’t marry me?”

 

“I thought the idea was to give the dowry when there _was_ a marriage arranged!”

 

“But then she’ll share everything of ours. That’s why I’m asking you…if I marry anyone, it’ll impact you almost as much as me.”

 

“I don’t remember asking your permission – or opinion – when I fell into bed with Sally! Either before or after the wars.”

 

“You knew I would approve!”

 

“You only knew her by reputation – what the Fed calls a rap-sheet! A ‘Record of Arrest and Prosecution Sheet’! Only they never arrested her, didn’t know who she _was_ – like the wind:  You only see the effects, not the wind itself. And by the time you see the effects, she's _gone!”_

 

Neal hesitated and refilled his glass unnecessarily. Mozzie watched, entertained. Neal sat back, gazed at his wine and said, “If she saw the real Mozzie, and loved him – enough for me.”

 

“And all these girls of yours?” Moz asked.

 

Neal didn’t look up, but grinned a little. “On that basis alone, scratch Sara and Rebecca and Kate! Alex likes you, and she knows me the best of all of them!”

 

“Oh, I think Rebecca had done sufficient research to know both of us, in theory and on paper at least, and she loves you…which doesn’t mean I endorse her inclusion in the possible Mrs Caffrey-Ellington-Steels list in any way!”

 

“I can see why some people, like Peter, never trusted me. I’m good – not as good as she was, but good. And I would never trust her again.”

 

“Sadly, I agree – would be useful to have one family member happy to take out the really bad guys!”

 

“You’ve always been prepared to do what was necessary to protect the rest of us!”

 

“Yes, if there was no alternative and they were bad enough. I was always _prepared_ – she was _happy_ \- and very skilled! And my methods usually weren’t fatal. And of course you’d never trust her – she tried to kill _me!”_

Neal chuckled. “You know, I doubt she would have let you die. I believe she did care for me. And she knows I care for you.”

 

“If you married Rachel, you would look in vain for me arriving as a house guest, Neal!”

 

“No Rachel, promise.” Neal wished he could joke about that being a good thing, he might actually get to stock some wine - but it didn’t feel right when Mozzie had been so close to death…and not a nice death, though plants were again the method!

 

“And the treasure and Alex? Am I to find Alex and extol your virtues as a wonderful spouse just to keep the treasure?”

 

Neal smiled a little. “No, The treasure is rightfully yours…this surfacing of it anyway! You tell me no dice, I tell Alex nothing.

         “Look, Moz, I remember everything that went down. Alex taken, Peter – we were all being manipulated by Adler like puppets. Victims, if you like. We survived because Alex was smart, and Adler chose to make a splash and didn’t just shoot us –

..........“You know, I have _no idea_ why people start being creative when it’s going to jeopardise their whole operation! I think they watched too many Batman TV shows or read too many Batman comics as children! The victim strapped to a conveyer belt being pulled inexorably towards the huge spinning saw blade…yeah, great if you want information, I guess, but when it’s just for your own amusement…?... haven’t they realised that Batman breaks free or Robin appears and sets him loose? Just a simple gunshot – but Nooo!”

 

“You should be grateful!”

 

“Yeah, I guess – but stupid!

...........“But while we were all being pushed around the chessboard, you nipped in quiet as quiet and lifted the treasure from under our collective noses, leaving a perfect misdirect! That’s classy! I never said so, before. You are unique, Moz! And I have no idea how you get so much done when you need to…that must have been hard physical work!”

 

“But, it was always Alex’s dream. And she did save your life, so…”

 

“You really mean that?”

 

“Give it to her! We have much more than enough…and, you know, it’s more about the lifting, the tricking, the misdirecting! I’m not King Midas, hoarding his gold! I’m not a dragon, sleeping on it! If that was for us all to live on for the rest of our lives, I’d like to keep part of it, but – we can live on Earth with the money from Brethsham technologies, we can live here because of our father. We need do nothing else, no further jobs, and live as well as we can possibly imagine, us and ours, forever.

         “I wouldn’t mind choosing a few key pieces because we love them…”

 

“And if I do marry Alex? Do you think she’d fit into our family?”

 

“Alex is nothing if not adaptable!” Mozzie grinned. “We may have to dissuade her from stealing our grandmother…!”

 

They laughed. Then Neal repeated, “I don’t think she’ll call.”

 

Mozzie heard the regret in his friend’s voice. “You really want her?”

 

“I think I feel like this about _anyone,”_ Neal mused and Mozzie put his hand to his face and took a swig of wine to compose himself.

Neal grinned slightly. “No – unless they are totally wrong, like Rachel – I actually hate the thought of choosing one because then I lose all those interesting, delightful things that might happen with all the others! I can see myself with Sara, or Alex, or even Rebecca, as I thought she was…and others.”

 

“I think you need to settle for one, or indulge in some interesting, delightful things with many! It’s the whole eating your cake or still having it deal, Neal!”

 

“Yeah. I’ve been told that! But of everyone, I think Alex is the most fun, the most interesting – of those I know and who aren’t assassins!”

 

“Then go and get her!”

 

“I’m not about the seduce Alex to get her to marry me!”

 

“I sort of thought that was how most men did it – with looks, as in your case, or money, as in your case now, or charm, as in your case - !”

 

“And in _your_ case, Moz? ‘Cause that’s what I want to know – you’ve been far more successful than I have!”

 

Mozzie stopped smiling and just looked at him. “You know – I don’t have any idea! I mean – you were there. You and the Suit. Sally asked for me to go out to her. I thought she was joking, or just asking for me because both of you – each of you – looked scarier, more corporate, more likely to carry a gun – something.”

 

“Bet it felt good!”

 

“Oh, yeah! For once, neither you nor Burke gets the girl, and such a cutey, and smart as a whip, too!”

 

“Did you just use the word ‘cutey’ in a sentence!” Neal grinned disbelievingly but affectionately at him.

 

“I did. And if you had seen her take her clothes off, you would use it too…not that I want you to see her naked.”

 

“Too late!”

 

“True – and?”

 

“Very cute. And flexible.”

 

“All right!” Mozzie grinned. “Enough!

..........."But, Neal – I know what I saw in her. Long before she took her clothes off, I was smitten! I have been attracted to girls and women before, but this was like…”

 

“Lightening-strike? Soul mate? Bells ringing and those little bluebirds flying round your head?”

 

“No,” Mozzie shook his head, thoughtfully. “(And stop thinking of comics!)

..........."Like – like – remember when we stole those diamonds and conveyed them in the leather underwear?”

 

“I recall.” Neal’s voice was filled with distaste.

 

“Remember taking them off and pulling on some soft pants and slippers and sitting down with that wonderful Hennesey Ellipse cognac and weighing each stone one by one?”

 

“Yes.” Neal eyed him strangely.

 

“Like that. Like coming home. Like every moment of my life before she appeared was uncomfortable because she wasn’t in it. Even if we had ended up somehow with plastic diamonds and cane spirit.”

 

“And that was great cognac…I can almost still taste it. Lovely termination. Flowers and fruit poured over earth…mmm.”

 

“Um – mind off the cognac? Though I was very pleased with you – you went into that Le Maurier’s home, we got you in despite his state-of-the-art security for that Matisse - ”

 

Neal laughed. “ – which turned out to be a _fake!_ – _karma!_ \- ”

 

“- so you raided his liquor cabinet!”

 

“Well, we didn’t have time for me to find the safe, all the art I could see wasn’t worth my trouble! His art was phony but he must have had a palate, or some of his friends did...that was some collection! But _heavy!_ I was in such a hurry, but tried to take only took the crème de la crème! My shoulders were almost out of joint by the time I got to you…and that bottle of cognac was only about half-full – but _wow._ Worth it.”

 

“Must have been recently opened and probably shared with a bunch of those idiot friends! It was a virtuous rescue, Neal. And the haul was worth almost what the Matisse would have been unless we found the perfect buyer…”

 

“Yes, but we don’t sell it! You still have some of that, don’t you?”

 

“Yes, I sold some of it…can’t sell opened bottles, though! – and the cognac is almost perfect to this day – I carefully decant to smaller bottles, that’s the trick. It has an nearly unlimited shelf life, if stored away from air.”

 

They grinned at each other. So many happy, exciting and interesting shared memories!

 

“So Sally always felt like she should have been in your life,” Neal reverted to the original topic.

 

“Still does. I guess, for me, part of that is the fact that she lacks competition!”

 

“At present, Alex is looking like that, for me.”

 

“Neal – you could walk out of that door and pick the first person – almost, unless they have no interest in men, or are solidly married – and find a new someone. I’m different that way, and no matter how you embellish it, that’s the truth. The important thing is that Alex knows you and loves you still. You aren’t going to get that with anyone new.”

 

“But Alex only knows part of me – the old me, if you like. And there are ways…”

 

“Takes years. Worth it with the right someone. I – I wouldn’t…if Sally left me…I wouldn’t look for anyone else, you know? I wasn’t looking before, had given up – and I certainly wouldn’t look again.”

 

Neal looked sideways across the rim of his glass. Interesting – that’s what June had said of Byron.

 

 

“Where is Sally?” Neal asked.

 

“Um – she slept in. Still on Earth time,” Moz said, and yawned.

 

“Uh-huh,” Neal chuckled, but forebore to tease his friend further. He’d always disliked that sort of thing when someone – usually Peter – aimed it at _him._ It had seemed so childish when Peter had done it.

         “So tell me, brother, what was the House like, was it as bad as governments on Earth?”

 

“No,” Mozzie told him bluntly. “There are a lot of people with different agendas, different ideas, trying to get their case heard about them, but there’s much less corruption than there used to be on Earth. The idea of lobbyists hadn’t entered their heads! And because of the feudal system, probably couldn’t exist! You know, many people look back at history and think our time is best, but that was obviously not true about many things.”

 

“But boring?”

 

“Well, yes. Many of the subjects were of no interest to me – or Caerrovon! And great many of the important things have been set in stone for a long while – no archers in disputes, for example. The quotas on produce. Camber grows a high proportion of the grains and cereals. They are huge and have that wonderful system in place. Other Keeps grow less, and many of us grow a little for in-Keep use.

..........“If someone suddenly wanted to double their production at Camber’s expense, they would have to justify it. But here’s the thing: Camber isn’t screwing everyone on grain prices! Camber, Trent and Goren, Lopik and Usher – the other biggish producers next to Camber – don’t get together and try and set the prices and force everyone else to pay more.

..........“In fact, looking at their Records, there were a few years when there was less water than usual and there was less grain. Camber did not raise her prices. She sold to the other Keeps pro-rata what they normally bought, as there was not as much to go around. The other Keeps, in thanks, charged Camber less for the goods they had to buy, since she was a little short of income.”

 

“That seems very civilised!” Neal remarked.

 

“Amazingly! They talk to each other, the Keepers and advisors, more or less like other people, not enemies!”

 

“And the King?”

 

“King Jareldt of the House of Gulph, believe it or not. He reminded me a bit of the Pope…not his person or personality, though! But a Kingdom in a Kingdom type thing. The King has his own Castles, three of them. One is his Town Palace. He has land. His army is made up of a mixture of men and some women from each Keep. They swear allegiance to him and his family and even if they had to fight their own kin, they would be held to that. Usually, I was told, in times long past, when several Keeps came against the King, he would move soldiers around so they never fought their own people…no single Keep has ever taken up arms against the King. He’s well-liked, this one, anyway. He seemed perfectly nice, not brilliant, not stupid, but also not over-burdened with his own importance.”

 

“It’s an inherited Office?”

 

“Yes. His sons and daughter…Faroma, her name is, and her brothers are Sheldoq and Ferion…attended and all of the family took the time to come and speak to Caerrovon and me. They smile with their eyes, Neal.”

 

“Either sincere, or good cons!”

 

“I think the former.”

 

“So what is the problem?”

 

“The whole system is hide-bound. Now the fact that the system works rather well makes that a good thing. Most change would be for the worse. But _trying_ to change things – such as the attitude to slavery – is hard. Almost everyone is pleased with what they have accomplished – rightly so! – so any change that is suggested is seen as dangerous.”

 

“Ah! –

........."Oh! Here’s a bunch of our friends!”

 

Diana and Tammy had brought Sally, and they insisted on seeing the paintings Neal was working on.

 

“Those you did that are hanging in the gallery are exceedingly beautiful, Neal,” Sally said, squeezing his arm. “I wish I could do that!”

 

“And there have been many times I wished I had your skills, Sal!” Neal smiled at her.

 

“Which have gone the way of the dodo bird!” she chuckled.

 

“I love the way you think, Neal!” Di said, standing in front of the easel with ‘Don’t Feed the Lions’. “And then you put it down on paper – canvas – you know what I mean! I’m sorry what you two had turned into this, even if just in your head or heart.”

 

“Yeah,” Neal agreed, shortly.

 

Diana didn’t say anything about the Rachel painting. She just shot Neal a startled, unnerved look. Then she said quietly to Tammy, “This is exactly what the woman was like. Light flowed through her and have a shadow she had not…we call them spooks, ghosts – Neal has shown you why! She could be anyone – that mask? - and was as sharp and cold and heartless as glass or crystal.”

 

Neal always liked hearing people discuss his work. Sometimes they saw things he had not meant to show, they misinterpreted the thing completely, to his way of thinking. Someone with acumen sometimes showed him the very things he had painted, but had only been aware of subliminally. And he knew in his head Rachel was like that. His heart still loved Rebecca, the sweet mask.

 

“Oh! Mozzie!” Sally cried. “It’s _you_ – your alter-ego, the fluffy, dear, cuddly toy with razor-sharp mental faculties and access to dangerous weaponry!

...........“I love it, Neal! Do you ever sell your work?”

 

Neal ducked his head and grinned. “It’s usually a trade, Sally.”

 

“Yeah!” laughed Diana. “Your ‘Storm on the Sea of Galilee’ for Rembrandt’s!”

 

“S’right!” Neal agreed. “Or so they allege!”

 

“But you’ll let me buy this one, please, Neal?” Sally asked.

 

“It isn’t finished yet, and when it is I intended it for you and Moz. So long as I can come and visit it.”

 

“He wants every second weekend,” Mozzie told his love.

 

“Well, I see that!” Sally agreed. “I used to feel that way about my computer programmes! Letting them go off to do what I wanted them to, watching them unfold and grow and become independent...How much more about something so warm and fuzzy!”

 

“You are going to paint my Diana?” Tammy said, hopefully.

 

“I was sort of doing my associates in crime, Tam. Your Diana is much more open, and I did paint her and the rest of the team as brave and proud LEO’s.”

 

“So _this_ one is not of Peter the LEO, but Peter the trap?” Tammy asked, gesturing.

 

“Mmm – little bit him, little bit me.”

 

“I would like one of just Diana, when you have time and if you can,” Tammy repeated. “ _Not_ her job – her beauty and sweetness.”

 

Neal grinned at Diana, who was becoming embarrassed. “You will have to decide on the clothes, Tammy.”

 

“Clothes?” Tammy asked, blinking, and the rest laughed, surprised. Tammy wasn’t usually one for ribbing!

 

“I have to go to work, now,” Diana said. “So you will have to look after Theo, Tam. And make no jokes with these… _men…_ they are so easily lured into lurid thoughts!”

 

“Joking, Diana, I was not!

...........“Oh, but I promised some of the boys I would teach them some sword-play, Diana. I did not know you would be going back so soon!” She looked so sad that Di hugged her. “Just during the days, Tammy-love.”

 

“I have something to ask Steel – if I can find him and he is free,” Neal told them. “After that I can look after Theo, if Mozzie and Sally will help?”

 

“Thank you!” Tammy nodded. “That would be perfect. Ophera is busy making special foods for Caerrovon, as she always does when he has been away.”

 

Neal nodded and jogged off down the corridors towards the study, hoping that Steel would be there. He wasn’t, but Brak was, who told Neal that his father was at the stables talking to Klenalth.

 

Steel was just turning away from the wrinkled old horseman when Neal appeared.

         “A moment of your time, my Lord?” asked Neal.

 

“Of course, Neal. Walk beside me: I have to see Leran and some of his new recruits.”

 

“There is something I wish to ask you to do for me, Lord.”

 

“Of course, what do you need, Neal?”

 

“Probably a candlemark of your time after the evening meal one day soon? I want to tell you some of the things I have been thinking…but one of them is that Mozzie and I have talked it over and have decided that we would very much like to do up that large suite of rooms that were not being used, if you still agree?”

 

Steel’s face lit up. “Of course!”

 

“Then when you have children – and we will join Ophera and Brak in the match-making game soon, Lord, if you do not find someone for yourself! You need a true heir! – they can just move there from the nursery, and there will be no thought of displacing us.”

 

“We also should talk about taking your fine paintings to Betchem, Neal! I am looking forward to that! He brags about _his_ offspring! And though you and Mozzie often venture from the true, you are indeed my heirs!”

 

Neal smiled. “And you want me to bring June here, and she is looking after Sara, so _she_ may join us! Perhaps not, she has friends in New York. I know she knows people there. She is trying to find work.”

 

“You know your friends are always welcome, Neal.

...........“Oh…I have a letter for you from Laffaysham. From the heir, to be precise. I knew not that you had visited?”

 

“Thervessalon, my Lord? But – I did meet him, in a hurried way, when we went to remove the plants. I know him not, Lord!”

 

“He knows you well enough to write to you. Or perhaps it is your notoriety that precedes you!”

 

“That, my Lord, is all too possible! Is it on your desk? Brak is there, he can give it to me, or I can get it from you later. I am going to be baby-sitting Theo!”

 

“He is an adorable child!”

 

“Takes after his parents!”

 

Diana jumped back at her lunchtime to check on Theo. She found Tammy first and they went to Neal’s studio. They paused in the doorway, smiling. Neal, Mozzie and Sally, as well as little Theo, Junoel, Cara and three other small children were sitting on the floor. They were all wearing protective coveralls made from old linens pinned on, and it had been a good idea to do so! There was paper and paint everywhere! Theo was dabbing red and yellow paint on a large piece of paper with two smudgy little hands, and the paint was in his hair and on his face, around a huge smile.

 

“Interactive art is always the best, Theo!” Neal was telling him, smiling and holding him in a sitting position. He was knocking himself off balance with his enthusiasm! Junoel was bending over his work, his face almost on the floor. Cara seemed more interested in watching Theo and the other babies!

 

The mothers walked over and Neal looked up and smiled and said, “He is loving this!”

 

Theo looked up, too, and held out his hands to be picked up.

 

“I think we’ll give you a clean, first, little man!” Sally told him, and she and Mozzie scooped him up and took him over to the basin. Tammy was chatting with the other children while Neal collected Theo’s work and pinned some on the large corkboard and set others on the table to dry.

 

When the three of them were walking away, Tammy turned to Diana, a little puzzled by her silence.

 

“I think I need to talk to Lira,” Diana said, seriously.

 

“Do you feel unwell, Di?” Tammy asked, anxiously.

 

“I feel perfectly well, Dearest. I just would ask some clarification.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

End of Chapter 32

 

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	33. Excess to Requirements?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal reaches a turning point in some aspects of his life, forced to make some decisions he'd rather not make.

 

 

 

Lord Steel gave Neal the letter at the mid-day meal and he stowed it in his overshirt to read later. After helping with the clean-up, he sat in the corridor, on one of the chairs put there for guards, and opened it. He read it and made a face.

 

“What is it, Neal?” Mozzie asked, coming up to him. “I am teaching Ophera to bake shortbread! She’s getting there! Luckily, butter here tastes like earth butter! And they never invented margarine, sensible people!”

 

Neal glanced up absently. “I just have a bunch of letters to write, Moz.”

 

“I always preferred letters. If someone did want to obtain the contents – so long as you, as they did in war-rooms, destroyed the blotting paper regularly – they actually had to go to the trouble of finding and opening the letter, carefully, if they did not want you to know they were snooping. And the governments could do it, though the laws against tampering with the postal system are very strong, world wide…Genève has set up such a strong set of international laws. Governments can do an end run of course, because they have access to the mail…now in the U.K., it belongs, once posted, to the Crown, until delivery so tampering is arguably treason!”

 

“Do you know how few of the people below – I don’t know – a hundred years old! – would have known what blotting paper is, before the alien wars?”

 

“Still hard to find on Earth! I have a source in Italy, never stopped making it for discerning clients!”

 

“Discerning and paranoid!”

 

“Of course!” Mozzie nodded, as though it had been a superfluous remark which, Neal decided, it had been!

 

“I prefer ball-point ink – harder to age!” Neal countered.

 

“Give you that. Hardly ever a problem in our business! And I think most people couldn’t use a nib-pen or a fountain pen.”

 

“I have a box full of Steadtler mapping pens and the ink for them, I prefer writing with them unless it’s real wide-nib calligraphy.”

 

“Hmm…! Because of our various allegedly illegal interests we are a great source of knowledge about vanishing arts and sciences.”

 

“Yeah – so’s poor Sally!”

 

Mozzie nodded, and Sally walked up and joined them. “I like it here!” she told them. “The people are very nice and accepting.”

 

“Glad you like our new home,” Moz tilted his head.

 

“Live in a cardboard box with you, Moz,” she said, off-handedly, and Neal smiled quietly. “But I like all of them, actually! And the nice thing is, if I’m missing Italy and the weather there, we can jump back and go on an olive-oil tasting tour, or if I’m wanting bustle, we can be in New York in less than a New York minute! I don’t know how we managed before!”

 

Neal went to his studio and organised his writing materials. He took out his favourite gold-nibbed fountain pen that he used here, filled it and wrote an effusive letter of thanks to Lord Sunder, and included one to the swordsmiths responsible for his rapier, and the jeweller responsible for his charms. He also asked for updates on the effectiveness of the water-from-fog system. He wrote it all in High Sheel, but with a note of humour throughout. He had the Sunder’s number!

 

He wrote a thank you to Lord Camber, including one to the Head Baker.

 

He wrote another to Lord Betchem, asking for an audience for himself, his Lord and a group of perhaps twenty, including menservants…then he paused. Better run that past Steel.

 

Then he read the letter from Thervessalon again, thoughtfully. It made things a little tricky. Or a lot. He couldn’t just brush off the heir to Laffaysham Keep! He was not Jebb or Tallk, nor was Laffaysham quite as powerful and prepared as Betchem…but he had the feeling that beneath their cultured and aesthetic façade that some of the Laffays – including this tall heir – could be quite as difficult and touchy as any Sunder and more arrogant. The letter was courteously worded and beautifully written – probably by a scribe kept for such work – but the message was concise and edged for all that. Neal could have been irritated by the slightly condescending tone used by the heir of a Keep ten times the size of _this_ heir’s Keep, but he was prepared to make allowances. The man had never been taught any better.

 

Though he rather wished he could jump Thervessalon here to see his perfect Sonsharelitha forgery! _Not all the great artists, heir of Laffaysham, come from your Keep, even if you have ten men for every one of ours!_

 

Mozzie was very good with time. Time-tables, precision, deadlines. Neal, not so much. He could and had worked with severe time-restraints to do a job, of course, but generally he didn’t enjoy wearing a watch and rather let events unfold in their own time. It irked him now, for that luxury had been removed.

 

Scowling, for he’d much rather continue painting, playing with the children or riding, he jumped to Mozzie, who was with Sally in his workroom.

 

“Sorry to interrupt, Moz, Sally! There’s a problem. Moz, remember the dowry – could you go and remove the pieces you want and then give me the key? Things have been moved up.”

 

“Neal! Sally and I are working on this new chip – oh, all right!”

 

“I don’t like to ask – I really don’t like to have to ask!”

 

“So Alex’s time has run out?” Mozzie asked.

 

“Yeah.”

 

“We’ll get it done by this evening. Sorry, Sally! Come with me and choose multi-million dollar pieces of art to grace our walls and mantle-pieces? Our excitable friend here would not ask if it was not important, not urgent, now that the suits are in effect out of his life.”

 

Sally brightened up. “Having you two as family is very much more exciting than I’d ever hoped!”

 

Neal smiled at her. The two popped out and he stared at the space where they had been. He really wanted a Sally-equivalent all of his own!

 

Neal leaned against the outer wall and contemplated, only vaguely aware of the grey sky that leached the colours from the landscape. If Alex had said no – or yes – he wouldn’t have to speak to Steel. We-ell…if she’d said no, probably he would have. But this letter made everything difficult! Damn the nosy heir and his perceived responsibilities!

 

Neal sighed. His artistic inspiration had faltered. He truly hated making decisions.

_Well, I hate making irrevocable decisions! I do not like burning bridges! I guess it’s as Moz said: I like as many exits as possible at any one time!_

 

Still, if his muse had gone into hibernation, that did not stop him making perfect copies – in this case of work that was already his! He’d already laid the first few layers of paint, just had the fun details to create.

 

He often thought that any really successful painting was like smearing coloured love on a canvas. _In this case a love letter or a farewell._

By the time Mozzie and Sally came back, filled with the joy of handling and choosing some very special pieces, he was more or less finished what he was doing.

 

“Ah,” Mozzie noted, placing an envelope on the side table. “Instructions and directions for Alex.”

 

“Mmm…I like these paints. The pigments dry more quickly,” Neal said, a little sadly. “Moz, sorry to be a bother, but – oh.”

 

“What?”

 

“I wanted to know the time where Alex is…but I’m not sure where Alex is! New York?”

 

“Early evening – about 6. 30. Dark already.”

 

“I hope she’s in New York. I don’t think Rebecca is there.”

 

“Oh, joy! Delight! Jump first to the suits’ hangout and lift a bullet-proof vest!”

 

“Moz, if she knows how to jump, she could have jumped here, or anywhere I’ve been, and plunged a seven inch blade into my heart!”

 

“Most people who were jumped never learned that _they_ could jump. I would be less concerned if love and hate weren’t such close bedfellows, Neal!”

 

“I can’t worry about Rebecca trying to kill me! I just don’t want to meet her. I don’t have much conversation that covers such interactions!”

 

“You must have lived such a sheltered life!” Mozzie taunted.

 

“That’s true…no-one has actually tried to kill me – it’s always you! We-ell, recently...there were a few times, long ago…Now that has to say something!”

 

“They merely do not wish to extinguish the charming smile. That, or they feel you are a lightweight, not worth the offing.”

 

“Ouch!”

 

They grinned at each other. Then Neal made a face and went on, “I’d better go. Everything rides on what Alex has to say.”

 

“Neal! It doesn’t! She may decide you’re the one for her, to try and make a life together, or not. You’ve lived without her, without any permanent woman the vast majority of your life – as have I! You have a life, friends, a Keep, a father, a purpose! Don’t make this more than it is, mon frère.”

 

“You’re right. Mozzie, when did you become so philosophical – oh, wait! Born that way!”

 

“Born, trained and in continual upgrade!”

 

“You’re right. It’s just that, well…”

 

“That you don’t want to be told by a perfectly lovely lady with tonnes of smarts of the criminal – and other – kinds, and delectable legs that you – you _, Neal Caffrey!_ – are Not Needed on Voyage.”

 

“I want her to want me!”

 

“Mmm…keep reminding yourself, if she doesn’t, that having her means not having the rest of Womankind.”

 

“Are you and Sally this pragmatic about love?”

 

“Yes,” Sally said, calmly.

 

“Absolutely!” Mozzie looked horrified. “That’s why we’re perfect for each other!”

 

“And she loves your eyes – and other attributes.” Neal winked at Sally, who winked back.

 

“A car must run perfectly, well-maintained, safe, be rain-proof and comfortable, with good fuel economy and no computers,” Moz told him, and, as often happened, Neal wondered where this was going! “However, once the basics are taken care of, secret compartments and a hula girl on the dash are nice and don’t take away from the practical aspects of the car. _But_ it is always foolish to base the value of the car on the latter as opposed to the former!”

 

“ _If_ I remember all that, Moz, I’ll try and remember that!”

 

Moz grinned. “Give Alex my love, either way. She knows how to find me.”

 

“Oh, does she?”

 

Mozzie merely nodded complacently, and walked away.

 

Neal collected the original painting – _How odd it is to say that about my work! -_ thought about Alex, and jumped.

 

 

 

 

 

The room was lit by candles and it was part of a house. Older _, not_ New York City! Quiet. Log cabin! Alex was pouring coffee into two mugs and called, “Bring the biscotti!”

 

“Alex!” Neal hissed, and Alex didn’t drop the percolator only because her reflexes were as good as his.

 

“How did you get in here?” she demanded.

 

“Long story!” he told her. “Can I have a minute …” and in walked Rebecca.

 

Neal controlled his breathing.

 

“Well, hallo, Neal!” she said. “I’m sorry, but _you_ came _here_ – and I assume you were also a guest of aliens! Perhaps you can convince Alex, she thinks I’m crazy.”

 

“Funny, that,” Neal managed a smile. “She’s in good company. A large company! And there are many doors and windows to this place, Rebecca?” _She does know how to jump without them! Oh, wow, that’s not good!_

 

“None I didn’t booby-trap, and since you’re in one piece…”

 

“I thought the story was that you had changed.”

 

“I have changed. You know the Chiri, I take it? They must have brought you here! You know they can heal. I have no wish to kill anyone…never really did before, but it was part of my job. Now all the darkness is gone. Alex is helping me get back on my feet. But there’s no reason I shouldn’t use my skills to keep us safe in a house with no close neighbours, is there?”

 

 _Horns of a dilemma! But she **says** she doesn’t know how to jump on her own!_ “Okay, you got me. One of the Chiri did bring me here. I had to find Alex.”

 

_Oh, why did I say that? Why did I come? How am I going to talk to Alex with Rebecca here?_

“I need to speak to Alex alone, Rebecca.”

 

“She told you what I told her to say,” Rebecca asked, “and you believed her?”

 

“I believed that Alex believed what she told me.”

 

“Neal!” Alex burst in. “You have no right to say things like that!”

 

“You don’t know what Rebecca did – all the things she did!” Neal defended himself.

 

“I didn’t know Rebecca before, Neal – and you don’t know her now.”

 

“It’s understandable, Alex. How’s Mozzie?” Rebecca shrugged.

 

“Mozzie is just fine, no thanks to you.”

 

“I was monitoring his vitals, Neal! I love you – loved you, then – I would never have let anything happen to Mozzie. Despite what you said, I always hoped we’d get back together again. Despite the number of times you played me, lied to me. Because you were in bed with Peter.”

 

Neal’s mind was thinking, _You played me! You lied to me! I was lying to Peter because of you! And I **was** in bed with **you!**_ while saying, “Monitoring – ? He passed out! He was rushed to hospital.”

 

“That _was_ odd. He’s smallish, but with his body weight, he should have been fine for another two hours,” Rebecca said. “Even with a glass or two of wine.

         “But once he reached the hospital he should have had plenty of time for them to find the antidote. I had it on me, but you weren’t worried about him – you didn’t _mention_ he’d gone to a hospital! You never asked for it!”

 

Neal thought back. He hadn’t. “You didn’t factor in the double whisky he drank to fortify himself,” he said, a little shame-faced.

 

“But I never saw Moz drink anything stronger than wine!”

 

“Well, knowing he was dying changed things. It’ll do that to people.”

 

“I’m sorry, Neal. It wasn’t supposed to be anything like that close! I was following, but couldn’t show myself. I didn’t have you in sight all the time.

..........“If you’d asked, once I thought you’d given me the diamond, I’d have handed it over. You just said it wasn’t the deal…you didn’t seem worried, just angry. Then, of course, when you joined me on the edge of the world and I found I had a brick, I’d probably have shot you! Nothing to lose.”

 

He looked across at her. She was smiling a little, cat-like smile and he wasn’t sure if she was joking. Her hair was dark, almost as it had been when she came to collect the diamond. She was wearing well-cut trousers and a matching over-sized dark blue Aran-cabled pullover. She took the mug of coffee from Alex and looked back at him. Her face was soft and relaxed, little make-up. She wasn’t the hard-faced assassin and she wasn’t the sweet-and-innocent intellectual. Which wasn’t to say she was real. He was sure she had a wardrobe of faces, of aliases, of cons. _He_ did.

 

“How were you monitoring his vitals?”

 

“His watch. It was one of the reasons I met you there, didn’t take you off to another meeting place. I could have engineered it so that you and Burke had to go separate ways! I’m good, Neal! I could have played both of you. I was quite prepared to give you the antidote if you asked – well, if **_you_** asked - but by then his vitals had started to stabilise.

         “Look, Neal, I know you’ll never trust me again. I hear it in your voice. Just – please believe I’ll never come after you?”

 

“You ended up in prison because of me. Why would you not want to come after me?”

 

She shrugged. “Occupational hazard, prison. If you hadn’t been tied to the Bureau, if Hagen hadn’t been in the picture, we could have made beautiful music together, Neal.”

 

“I don’t like guns, I don’t like assassins.”

 

“I love guns, I’m good with them. I don’t like killing people unnecessarily. Hagen needed to go. You might want me to be inside a prison, Neal, but despite everything I didn’t want to see you there. I don’t think you were fair. I never wanted to hurt you.”

 

“You shot my jacket!”

 

“Oops, Rebecca!” Alex smiled. “That put paid to any chance you two might have had! Only thing worse was shooting his silly hat!”

 

“I could have killed you, Neal, it would have been far safer for me! You were the smart one! I just tried to keep you from the go-bag.”

 

“I know. I’ve gone all over it a thousand times, Rebecca. But – you’re a killer.”

 

“You know, Neal,” Alex said, critically, “if I was reading you correctly, _you_ thought you could change, didn’t you? With Peter? If I’m reading you correctly now – and you know I am – you _have_ changed. Thank God not into a Knock-off Off-the-Rack Suit, as Mozzie would say, but you’re totally different. You’re happy, for one thing. Confident. Not cocky, mock-confident, you’re confident.

         “Yet Rebecca can’t change?”

 

“Killers are different from non-killers. Not that anybody can’t be forced into a situation were they might kill, but there are people who learn to like it or at least be cold about it.”

 

Rebecca nodded. “I was. I was cold and calculating about it. I had to be, Neal, in my original job. I don’t feel like that any more. I’m not that person. I don’t expect you to believe it and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. But I am going to make a new life for myself.”

 

She put down her mug, walked across the room – and Neal tensed himself – but all she did was kiss his cheek and pat his shoulder. “I’m glad I only shot your jacket! If you don’t seek me out, and we don’t meet by accident again, you won’t see me again. Unless…” she went back over to the desk, unlocked a drawer and wrote something on a piece of card stock. She came back and gave it to him. “If you ever need me, or my skills – for anything, ever - Free, gratis and for nothing – call that pager. You or Mozzie. No-one else.”

 

“I never will,” Neal said, sadly.

 

“You just never know, Neal. Rather have it and not need to use it…” She leaned up and kissed his cheek again, smiled into his eyes and, picking up her mug on the way, left the room. She leaned back in for a moment and said, “Tell Mozzie I’m sorry, and this for his collection: ‘The greatest thrill is not to kill, but to let live.’” Then she was gone.

 

There was a heavy silence. Alex broke it, irritated. “You’re pretty sure you’re always right, aren’t you?”

 

_Well, this is a lovely place to start!_

“You’re a con, too, Neal! You shouldn’t get all up-tight because some beautiful girl out-smarts you! Or is it the fact that it was a woman?”

 

“Alex! She nearly killed Mozzie!”

 

“She explained that!”

 

“Can we stop talking about Rebecca, _please?”_

“Since you’ve become as stubborn as those pigs you wallow with…not much point in talking.”

 

“Alex, I don’t see Peter from one year to the next! Please!

         “I’ve been thinking a lot about you, about us.”

 

Alex got out a mug and poured him a coffee. “Still like it like that?”

 

“You always know how I liked everything, Alex.”

 

“Until you were forced-Fed, I think I knew you.”

 

“Then you know me now. I’m gentler, I think, I’ve been to some dark places and come back…”

 

“You said perhaps it was past our time, Neal.”

 

“I’d rather it wasn’t. We can work on it, Alex. When you’re not with me, I miss you.”

 

“You actually want to settle down, be a couple.”

 

“Exclusive. Scary, I know!”

 

“Can I say that I’m not nearly as sure about you – about us – as you are?”

 

Neal was glad the light was low; he felt his eyes burn. “What can I say to make it better?”

 

“Being more polite to my friend would have helped!”

 

Neal thought about that. “Look, Alex, I hope – I _so_ hope she’s changed. But she is a brilliant con, and I don’t want you hurt.”

 

“I can take care of myself.”

 

“That’s what I thought. And she nearly killed me and she nearly killed Mozzie.”

 

“She could have killed either of you and she didn’t…you know she’s an expert, if you aren’t dead it’s because she didn’t want you dead.”

 

Neal swallowed. “That’s probably true. She gave Mozzie a pure poison, not a mixture. She is an expert marksman. She could have killed all of us at the Fort. She could have killed me at the Fort when I went after her. She had nothing left to lose, after Hagen, and with her record, just as she said.”

 

“Can you at least acknowledge that she might have changed?” Alex didn’t know what he was talking about. And he was really just talking to himself.

 

“Can you at least be careful in case she hasn’t?”

 

Alex finished her coffee. “She never did bring in the biscotti,” she complained. “And yes, I’ll be careful, Neal – but she already saved my life.”

 

“How?”

 

“Long story about a tall tower in Europe and a frayed rope.”

 

“You did a job together?”

 

“No. She was just there, in the middle of the night, saw me in trouble and climbed up to help me. She could have taken the platinum and let me fall…she didn’t. We ended up drinking good wine and eating cold pizza and talking and I had this fedora – not your trilby-thing, a proper fedora! – and I put it on and she said she knew someone who liked hats, and I said so did I…”

 

“That must have been an illuminating drunken discussion!”

 

“Oh, Caffrey, you would not believe - !” She grinned.

 

Neal smiled across at her, imagining those two beautiful woman, slightly drunk, talking about him. The fact that it had probably not all been complimentary…probably far from it…didn’t make it a less-alluring image! _Fun to paint it sometime!_

.........“All right. She promises not to see me again unless I contact her or by accident. If you want to be her friend, go ahead. You have heard my reservations and you’re right: I have no right whatsoever to judge as to whether she has changed, and what injury caused her to become as she was when I knew her before. I expect people to accept me and my criminal tendencies. She never killed any friends of mine and she saved me from a lifetime in prison, so I guess I can move on.”

 

Alex walked over and looked up into his face. “Hmm…you _have_ changed.”

 

“Look, Alex, Peter thought I was only one step better than Rebecca. He never could get over it…he got crazier about it as time went on! You…you missed out on some horrible times!

..........“When I watched Rebecca try and explain, I could see myself, trying to explain to Peter and having no luck!”

 

“Is he still chasing you?”

 

“No. We both got taken by the aliens…there really were aliens who really did abduct us! We drifted apart when we came back to Earth. Well, no. I told him to get lost, actually. All our records have gone up in electromagnetic pulses the aliens used, he didn’t need to chase me. We’ve hardly seen each other since. I was copying the Lost Art of New York, all legal and above board, and going back to my favourite – or second favourite, it sort of depends on the weather – planet in the universe.”

 

“So where is this planet?” Alex asked, disbelievingly.

 

Neal chuckled and shrugged. “No real idea. Long way away. I can tell you everything, explain, if you think there’s a real chance…”

 

“So the tender is about to close?”

 

“I’m sorry, Alex. I would like to have a decision. Either we try and work things out between us, or I move on…and you move on.”

 

“I kind of like the flexible way we’ve worked things out before. That’s bad for you?”

 

“You don’t have to be in my life every day, all day, but I’d like you to be with me more often than not! Not three weeks every two years! And then not knowing where you are, if you’re safe…no, Alex. That’s not going to work for us anymore. Not for me.”

 

“I’m not ready, Neal!”

 

“And you don’t have any idea when you’re going to be ready?”

 

She shook her long lose-curled hair and looked down.

 

“Don’t worry, Sweetheart. You don’t have to change. It’s just – it’s just I won’t be there for you.”

 

“Never again.”

 

“Doubt it. Not personally, that is – if you need help, I’ll be there. I’ll save you from sharks, Feds, the mob or whatever, if I can – but - ” he ran down, miserably.

 

“No more cuddles and great sex?” Alex grinned, but her big eyes were sad.

 

Neal crumpled his chin and shook his head. “Don’t want to be part-time lovers any more.”

 

“I’m not _ready!”_

“Okay. No pressure.” Neal wondered about giving her the rest of the treasure now that Rebecca was in her life. He asked, “How much do you trust Rebecca?”

 

“Some. Not as much as you and Moz, haven’t known her as long. You know this business, Neal – most people you can trust for ten years, and then a score will be too big for them to resist, and they’ll ditch you. Sacrifice you. I know you wouldn’t, Mozzie wouldn’t – seem to be fewer and fewer people I can trust.”

 

“That’s why I like the far planet.

...........“So you’d keep secrets from her?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Neal sneaked across the carpet and looked out of the door both ways. Then he asked, “She was a spy – could this room be bugged?”

 

Alex looked around. “Well – yes, I suppose so. Most bugs are – were -electronic, so useless, but I suppose it’s possible.”

 

“Can I ask you a couple of favours?”

 

“Oh, Caffrey, always with the favours…”

 

“Come here and close your eyes! No, leave the mug!”

 

Alex came over and Neal put his arms round her, tightened them, sad that this was nearly the last time he’d hold her like a lover. “Eyes closed?” he asked, and she nodded against his chest and he jumped to his suite at June’s.

 

 ** _“Oh!”_** Alex took that balance-step June had noticed, and looked around, her eyes huge. “N-neal – how did you – how - ?”

 

“I want you to keep this a secret. That I can do this. Especially from Rebecca. Please, Alex?”

 

Alex nodded, befuddled, walking away and touching the table, the couch, as though to make sure they were really there and not the Holodeck of the Starship Enterprise! “So what she said – and you – it’s all true?”

 

“Yes. But most Earthlings can’t or at least don’t learn to…translate, teleport, move from place A to place B without all the places in between, in Newtonian physics. Please – please don’t tell Rebecca we can, just in case?”

 

Alex nodded again.

 

“And then – please keep her away from June? Or if she plans to come back here, let me know? Tell her I don’t live here, though I visit every now and then…that’s true. If I thought she would hurt June, I’d have to kill her.”

 

“Ah, so killing is okay to save a friend?”

 

“Yes, Alex – to save June, Mozzie – you – yes.”

 

“So you dislike Rebecca because she’s _good_ at it?”

 

Neal shrugged. “She did do it for me, with Hagen. But she had just done it at other times, her record showed. Just as a job.”

 

“I doubt you could kill Rebecca! More likely the other way around!”

 

“Much more likely! But I’d have to try!”

 

“Okay, I’ll keep her away. You have my word. And my word on the translating, too. I don’t want you dead.”

 

“And another secret – the last.” He pulled out an envelope and handed it to her. “The last of the U-boat treasure. Instructions how to get it…keep them safe! Don’t let Rebecca know. It might be the score big enough to tempt her to ditch you, even kill you. I hope I’m wrong about her. But just in case, keep it secret, _please_ Alex. It was a lot of trouble and misery to get, we’ve lost bits of it to Keller and so on – but that’s about a third, I believe. We couldn’t have done it without you, so still a huge win for you.”

 

“What about Moz?”

 

“He said he wasn’t a dragon sleeping on his gold and to give it to you, it was always your dream.”

 

They laughed.

 

“It’s almost worth marrying you to have daily applications of Mozzie!” she smiled.

 

“Thanks! Nice to know my attractions are all tied up in my slightly shorter friend!”

 

She took a big step and snuggled into his arms and his breath hitched. “Lots of other attractions, sweet Neal.”

 

“Not enough, though,” he pointed out, kissing her hair.

 

“I’m just scared of the commitment. Of settling down. What if I get over that in a month or two?”

 

Neal smiled down into her chocolate eyes. They were big and soft and brown…he’d thought Peter’s eyes were like that, too. He’d always loved that look in Peter’s eyes…but it had come less and less frequently. He sighed.

 

“So it’s now or never?” Alex said, misreading the sigh.

 

“If you change your mind, let June know. I’ll find out in a few days or weeks. If I haven’t settled down with someone else…there may be a chance.”

 

“I’m sorry to let you down, Neal. Not being sure.”

 

“Don’t be. Both of us have to be happy and sure for this to have any chance of working, you know that!”

 

“But you’re sure?”

 

“I’m sure it’s worth working on – not sure if it will turn out to be a long term very-good match!”

 

“I guess you’ve grown up, Neal. More than I have.”

 

“You may be the sensible one, I may be the dreamer! We’ve never given our relationship any time at all between heists and travelling and fights. There’s always been a strong element of competition even when we were trying to be co-operative. Why waste months, perhaps years, and still find we’re not right for each other?

         “You should go and find your duke!”

 

“Yeah. And a castle to put him in!”

 

Neal jumped. Tammy had used those words to describe _him_ , the new heir to Steel. He suddenly realised he wanted it to mean something, but what he wanted meant nothing. Alex had to be ready to commit, and she wasn’t.

 

“I should take you back, or we’ll be interrupted by Rebecca.”

 

“I’m keeping my eyes open, this time! Oh, Neal – can I leave this envelope here, somewhere safe? Then it _is_ safe and I can come back and if one day I never come back, and you do, you can have it?”

 

Neal opened an empty hiding place, showing her how the counter-balances worked, and looked up at her as he knelt there. “You are planning to die?”

 

She determinedly ignored that gorgeous blue, that perfect hair, the line of his shoulders, the delicious cheek-bones, the shapely, kissable mouth… _Get a grip, Hunter!_

 

“No, planning hard not to…but if Rebecca hadn’t been there, I’d have been an expensive clean-up for the city’s cleaning crew. Could happen to any of us, any time. You know that. Tell Mozzie and June where this is, too…just in case.”

 

“That’s what I can’t take any more. Having you out there, without me, not able to help you.”

 

“How sweet and adorable, Neal!” she laughed, shaking back her hair. “But I was always better than you!”

 

“Dream on, girl!” he laughed and got up. “Just be more careful with your ropes!”

 

“Once you’ve gone, I’ll never see you again, will I?”

 

“Won’t be the same, probably. I won’t be available.”

 

“You’ve got someone else lined up? I should have expected it!”

 

“No. But – I can’t ever think of you as _mine_ again. My friend, my team-mate, but never my lover. Unless…perhaps…it’s soon, and I don’t have anyone else. But it feels like it’s goodbye.”

 

“I see. We should go back. And I – I wish I could make myself feel as you feel, my love.”

 

“Me, too! Come, cuddle up!”

 

She did and they jumped. He glanced quickly round the room, but they were alone. Alex walked away, trying not to show that this was hurting her as much as him.

 

He took up the parcel and unwrapped it and gave it to her. “My partner in crime, now and then,” he said.

 

She took it and went to a standard lamp and turned it on. She examined the picture and when she looked up she had tears in her eyes. “I never realised how talented you were, you know? This is exquisite.”

 

“Thank you. I’m improving, working on it.”

 

“Thank you for this. Oh, Neal – you _signed_ it!”

 

“A Neal Caffrey original!” he smirked, trying to give each of them a chance to back away from the emotional tidal-wave that had threatened to crest and swamp them for a few minutes there.

 

“I see what you mean,” Alex said, holding up the picture to catch the light.

 

“What?”

 

She smiled that sad little-girl-lost smile that had undermined his resolve every time! “Well, to enjoy this, I’d have to have a wall to hang it on. Damn, Caffrey!”

 

“I didn’t mean – that wasn’t what I was trying to say - !”

 

“Yeah. I know. It sort of proves that we are still too far apart.”

 

“I’ll take it back!” he said, wretchedly.

 

“Yeah – send me a postcard! _That_ I can carry! I can’t even take a photo on my non-existent mobile phone!” She brought it back to him, leaned it up against his leg and held her arms extended, smiling the old Alex Hunter smile. He smiled back and they hugged each other tightly. She breathed him in, wanting to remember his smell, his essence.

 

Then she broke away and kissed him on the cheek and said, “Take the picture to your place at June’s. If you go there and it’s gone…well, perhaps you can come looking for me.

...........“Now go away, Neal. No matter what happens, a part of me will always love a part of you!”

 

“Yeah. Good-bye, Alex. I’ll call the Chiri now to take me back.” He swallowed, wanting to grab her and take her back to his studio, and make love to her. But that wouldn’t make parting any easier!

 

She saw it and shook her head. “Not now. Perhaps not never. But we had our wonderful moments, please don’t forget them. Good-bye, Neal.”

 

“Good-bye, Alex.”

 

He took the portrait and jumped to June’s.

 

 

 

_There are times! Times when I’d just like to cry. Why can women cry and men can’t cry? Why do women get to wear some great clothes, when mostly we’re stuck with suits…okay – they have those torture- shoes and we get comfortable ones, but why? We have the ties…not as bad. The shoes make their legs look good. What the hell are ties good for…? Can’t even say they keep the food off the shirts! Shirts washable, ties usually have to be dry-cleaned. I’m sure I’ve had this conversation with myself before, or perhaps Mozzie. No resolution._

_What the hell am I talking about – oh. Crying about Alex. Yeah._

 

Neal wandered around his studio. He still loved every square inch, in that June had gifted him with a home… _but._

 

_But now there are years of memories here. That bed – yeah, I had some good times. Delicious dreams, glorious sleep. Alex, Sara…and then Rebecca! But I never slept with her in that after I knew…thought about her, though. Lots of time thinking._

_This table – had my hand on it when I was trying to balance myself after Bennett walked out on me…again! Had my hand on it when I was trying to stay upright after Peter marched out, all full of self-righteous fury about being out of jail because I’d stolen those coins for him. You know, **still** don’t get that! _

_Sat on the couch for a quarter of an hour after packing up, waiting for Moz to come and collect all my things – all **my** things, so the Feds didn’t find more evidence against me, feeling blessed that Peter had at least waited, stopped, talked to El, given me a chance to clean house – but wondering why she hadn’t explained – hadn’t called. Hid behind it when I was trying to get rid of them._

_This lovely shower…this has only good memories! Washing after being in jail, and in jail again, but getting it all off, clean! After working that awful day with Peter, washing it all off._

_.........After seeing Rebecca dragged off like a mad dog – wish the LEO’s didn’t get such joy in that, especially if it wasn’t their hard work that put her in their awful clutches, they’re like animals at a kill…vultures, hyenas at a lion’s kill…_

_Washing it all off. Coming home from the hospital where Moz was recovering – twice – because of me – washing that awful smell off and knowing he couldn’t._

_And this closet – lovely memories! Oh, just lovely! Taking off a suit after a bad day – like the showering. Dressing in anticipation of a hot date! And in anticipation of shoving Burke’s nose in my sartorial splendour! Mmm…_

_The balcony’s sumptuous, those lights…they make me want to paint them all again!_

_But **this** room – the couch, the table, everything has too many bad memories vibrating in the wood and metal. All this is the old Neal, the Neal that put up with it all. I am someone new. I love this place, but this furniture is excess to requirements. I’ll get it to the elevator and get Goodwill to come and pick it up. Salvation Army, SPCA, someone must still pick up? I should have it exorcised first! Mozzie probably knows some priest, or has some sage, or can do it himself – he’s licensed!_

_Damn it all – I’m going home!_

He left the portrait there, leaning against the suddenly banished couch, and jumped back to Steel.

 

 

 

 

 

 End of Chapter 33

 

 

Comments, please?

 


	34. Breaking Ties and Deepening Others

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal has plans to move along his relationships...but it isn't all smooth sailing!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to zou for Diana's little problem!

 

 

 

_Misery makes me hungry!_

Neal walked down to the kitchens. The evening meal was finished, but there were always left-overs and snacky things in the kitchen. There were a few slaves still working and he sat and they chatted about the weather and Cara and the fact that Thista and Shimon were adamant to stay in their cottage, despite the fact that the winter was predicted by all the old-timers to be going to be severe.

        

Neal joined in, feeling the cold places within himself warm in the friendly, accepting company.

_As Mozzie said, don’t make it more than it is. Alex isn’t ready…and is hanging out with a woman I loved – or thought I did! - who at least **used** to be an assassin. I should turn that into a screenplay for a soap-opera, make millions, once television is up and running again. Wonder if they’ll insist on better quality this time around! No senseless plots and idiot characters. Not that I watched much…even when I was really bored and Peter had benched me. I’ll be glad to shed these old girlfriends and bad memories, both._

_I have been without a woman the vast majority of my days, and have survived. Perhaps I’m just envious of his love with Sally! Surely not! I’m not that bad!_

Feeling better, he went back to his room, drank a glass of wine and read in front of the fire, showered and had an early night.

 

 

 

The next morning he approached Steel with his letter to Betchem, and the Lord agreed that the numbers were wrong: twenty was too few, they should tell the Lord that the Steel contingent would be thirty-five or forty at least. Neal was a little startled. He had thought twenty was too many!

 

“Neal, I have not visited Betchem other than brief and fleeting visits since – oh, since I inherited the knot, I am ashamed to say! Now I have an important reason to visit and many of my subjects have not been there. You, my Earthling son, have been there more often than I, I believe, since I became Lord! I am so proud of you, Neal, and wish to make that fact evident to my second father, Lord Betchem, and all his family.”

 

“I will fix it, my Lord,” Neal nodded, and Caerrovon came over and hugged him. He smiled up at him as he was released. “What is that for, my Lord?”

 

“Oh, for just being here and being you – and those lovely paintings.”

Neal ducked his head, a little embarrassed. Steel grinned and said, “Someone said you were arrogant. I have never seen that in you.”

 

Neal looked up, thoughtful. “I know I am very good at some things, my Lord. I know not whether I would say I was better than anyone else on Earth – or here – but very good. But I know my failings and my weaknesses. I am only just becoming comfortable being an artist, not a forger!”

 

“But you know you are very good at that?”

 

Neal chewed his lip, looking at the floor and then nodded, once, and met Steel’s eyes. “Yes, my Lord, I am very good.”

 

Steel’s face relaxed and he smiled at his son. “I am glad. If being here has done nothing else, Neal, I am glad you have realised your artistic potential.

“However, I wish I had some of what Mozzie tells me is called, on your planet and in general, ‘Rushing Surplus’? I think irrefutable evidence of Neal Caffrey claiming to be very good would be worth a great many horses!”

 

Neal’s face lit up. One if Steel’s greatest innocent enjoyments was getting Neal’s face to do that! He grinned back. “Am I wrong?”

 

“You would have a problem, Lord – no-one would buy what would be considered an obvious forgery! Or, perhaps, an incorrect statement made under duress! Or proof, even, that one cannot believe a word Neal Caffrey _ever_ says!”

 

Their faces relaxed into smiles, they stood just enjoying each other’s company for a moment. Then Neal went on, “I am not yet used to being praised by non-criminals, my Lord!”

 

Steel chuckled, then asked, “Now – with what did you want my help, Neal?”

 

“Oh…not now. I would like us to be private, with no chance of interruption. I want to discuss some personal questions, personal…problems. Perhaps after you finish everything else one evening?”

 

Steel sighed a little. “There is never an absolute certainty of being uninterrupted! But yes, later in the evening when Brak has left me, that is the best time.”

 

“I have seen that. Being Lord of all and everyone is busy work! I can now understand more why you have not had women, or men, or boys or girls, or one of any of them at a time in your suite!

“I shall finish my letter to Lord Betchem and then probably go and help Sara again…better go and ask Mozzie what time it is!”

 

“I shall enjoy the pleasure of your company this evening, or perhaps next, then, my son.”

 

Neal patted his arm and left, smiling. He wondered if he would ever get used to having someone as simple and open as Lord Steel love him, call him his son. Someone who had never asked anything of him, though he had, Neal grinned to himself, threatened him into going to School and painting original paintings!

 

Everything Steel had ever done, it seemed, was for Neal’s great benefit. And Mozzie’s, and Peter’s, and every slave…but few had his heart as did he, himself, Neal Caffrey, criminal-at-heart.

 

_I’m not really a criminal. I just like breaking rules, thinking creatively very-outside-the-box. Well, yeah…_

He jumped to Mozzie and his friend was filling data into a spreadsheet drawn on mapping paper. Sally was reading it to him.

Neal sat waiting for them to finish, not wanting to talk to Mozzie in front of Sally about this, and reasoning that Moz would probably tell her anyway, and it was silly and not really highly personal…

 

“That’s it, thank you, Sal! Did you want something, Neal?”

 

“Well, I would like you to make some sketches of how you would like our rooms here to look, furnishings, colours, whatever…other than that - I’m your friend, yes?”

 

Mozzie gave him a withering Look that would have dried the Amazon and killed the rainforest faster than the unrestricted and greed-inspired logging that Mozzie had fought hard – if anonymously – to stop.

 

Neal grinned. “What, Moz?”

 

“Well, you usually ask me that sort of inane question when you want me to stand by you and you’re about to broker a deal with an FBI agent who will put you on a leash and mess up our lives for years, or steal a gun and go after someone you think may have killed Kate, crashing through windows like Spiderman on the way – oh, yes, Diana described that stunt to me, very melodramatic! - or - ”

 

“Moz, love,” Sally interrupted, calmly. “Why don’t you give Neal a chance to ask his inane question?”

 

“If I must.” Mozzie shrugged.

 

“It’s not inane. And you are my friend?”

 

“This may be a man thing…?” Sally put in when Mozzie just gave him another Look. “Why can’t the two of you admit that you love each other, you will always be one – if not the – most important person in the universe to the other, and would risk everything, belly-crawl over germ-infested, dirty, broken shards of glass and walk into DC and play politician – a before-the-wars politician! – if it would help the other? Would that break the unspoken and unwritten man-code?”

 

“Come on, Sal – _you_ are the most -!” Neal started.

 

“No, I’m not,” Sally broke in, calmly. “Pragmatic, remember? I am very important to Mozzie. He’ll probably come back to me as long as he knows I’ll be waiting – after he goes off to help you. I’m not jealous, Neal. I love you, too.”

 

“Oh!” Neal found he could still be surprised by the slender woman who loved his best friend.

 

“Okay, Neal, mon frère – what she said. Now, what crazy thing are you thinking of doing?”

 

“You know more about the control of people, their thinking, their desires, their finances – etc, etc – than anybody I know. Is that what makes their lives so very, very dull? Is that what makes them give up, come forty or fifty, when you and I still feel excitement and hope?”

 

“I had not realised we were forty or fifty, but otherwise, in a word, yes, Neal. That’s why this place seems so wholesome. If Tammy wants to get married to an off-world slave and have a baby, does it bother Steel? Does it make him feel replaced, or threatened? No.

         “I bet you, if you went to him and told him you wanted to go and stay at Sunder and learn to fashion your own sword – and by the way, your rapier is a fine weapon! – he’d ask you to visit regularly, and pack you a lunch for the journey. Heavens, when he saw how much you wanted to do it, he told you to forge our grandmother!”

 

“Yeah.” Neal sat quiet for a moment, then laughed.

 

“What?” Moz demanded.

 

“Just imagining the look on my previous owner’s face if I broached the subject with him!”

 

Moz and Sal smiled, and Moz said, “He’d just think you were teasing, but then he’d lecture, anyway.”

 

“Well, that’s reasonable – he feels it’s part of the administrative process…if he states no argument, he’s agreeing with me!” Neal pointed out. “He was a total bastard about many things, mean and invasive as well, perhaps even to the point that I should have taken some action – legal, Sally, not physical! – but he did want to protect me from going back to prison.”

 

Mozzie started in Sheel: “You and I will disagree about everything good to do with the Suit, after that last Earth four-season. And Mrs Suit. I trusted them to a ridiculous degree. An Agent of the Faceless and Heartless Government – and his wife. I was lured like a fish by a worm! Thankfully a huge ship came and, by luck alone, saved both of us. You may enjoy the remembered taste of the worm, ignoring the cold, bitter iron of the barbed hook, should you wish! I will not be so trapped again.”

 

Neal stared at him. “Gosh, Moz- ”

 

Sally made a face. “El sent him a Christmas card via Diana.”

 

Neal sighed. “I suppose they will send me one, as well.”

 

“A few empty lines of faithless hopes for my good fortune and joy,” Moz intoned, “means nothing to me compared to their treachery towards my friend, however may decades pass.”

 

“You didn’t even know about it, Moz, till much later – well, you knew only a bit about Peter and nothing about El.”

 

“That caused all the more pain!” Moz said with conviction. “You kept it from me, Neal, because you know I would take action even if you had not, and then I boarded that ship on behalf of Mrs Suit - !”

 

“But Mozzie, I am so glad you did!” Neal exclaimed. “I would have been here with just June against a whole phalanx of FBI!”

 

“Now don’t you start!” Sal pleaded, but Neal’s words had made Mozzie smile.

 

Neal continued, “So I don’t really want to be a criminal, per se, I just want freedoms and hope?”

 

“Of course!” Moz said, bewildered.

 

“That’s all I wanted to know!” He strode off, smiling. Mozzie may sometimes seem what Sally called, with vast affection, a ‘funny old stick’, but he was loyal to the core!

 

Between jumping, directly and rashly, to see the jewellers of Sunder and buying a pretty platinum locket for what seemed to him a sum paltry in relation to the workmanship the woman had put into it, making a quick stop to the bakeries of Camber, helping Sara pick out four bespoke suits with accessories to match, and interviewing two tutors who specialised in the Spanish Magic Circle school, the day seemed very busy.

 

He was quiet at the evening meal, which he joined a little late. As they stood to start clearing, Lord Steel came over and said, “We cannot spend time together tonight, Neal. I have to speak to the steward from Betchem and I will give him your letter, he can take it with the rest of the post to the Lord when he leaves…and Lira wants to speak to a few of us before that, including you and me.”

 

“I wish to ask her a question, also. My Lord, Brak, did you find a woman named Rebecca and send her on to Earth after I had left that first time?”

 

Lord Steel shook his head a little, but Brak said, “Very pretty Earthling? Hair the colour of snazzle flowers?”

 

Neal frowned a little – snazzle flowers came in all sorts of oranges, burnt oranges and reds! “That sounds like her!”

 

“Trent heard that we were buying Earthlings, and there were three of them there. It was nice to do business with Trent!”

 

“Thank you, Brak. She used to be…I used to know her. I heard that a Chiri healed her, and wished to make sure of that.”

 

“Ask Lira when you see her. It may well have been Kitran, she went to Camber first. And so you’ve found another friend? She is very beautiful, Neal and very strong! Trent had her in their warrior programme.”

 

“Yes, Brak, I think strong and beautiful both apply.”

 

“But not special to you, my son?” Steel queried.

 

“No, my Lord. For a while there I thought she might be but we have…irreconcilable differences!” _That’s a nice way of putting it!_

 

“I think he is as difficult to please as you are, Caerrovon!” Brak chuckled, and Neal joined in, but privately thought that flying bullets certainly seemed a difficult thing for him to embrace as a lifestyle!

 

They went to the Greatroom, and Diana and Tammy were already there, as were Moz and Lira. Mozzie was bouncing Theo up and down and the little boy was squealing his delight, and Mozzie’s face was also filled with happiness!

 

“Greetings, Caerrovon,” Lira said, “and greetings to you all. Tammy called me, she and Di have some concerns.”

 

The adults’ faces fell, and they all looked at Theo, who, unaware, looked around, his smile fading, wondering why the play had stopped!

 

“Tammy, is this about Theo?” Steel demanded. “Is there something wrong?”

 

Diana stepped forward. “No, my Lord. No health issues, nothing like that. I was just wondering, and thinking about it since I noticed it, it is probably not a drastic…”

Tammy butted into Diana’s unusually tortuous sentence. “We need to ask Lira about something, Lord. I am not sure why she asked all the rest of you here.”

 

“Because it may involve them, and I wish no unpleasantness, Tammy and Diana.”

 

“What is it, Di?” Neal asked.

 

Diana looked embarrassed. “It was when you were playing with Theo, you were holding him upright – more or less! – and steadying him, and he was patting paint on the paper? I walked over and you both looked up…”

         She took Theo from Mozzie and went to stand next to Neal, and pushed him round a little so that the three of them were facing Lira. “This, Lira! Look at Theo’s eyes! They’re Neal’s eyes!”

 

Neal’s blue eyes widened, his mouth fell open and he took a quick step in front of her and Theo gazed up at him, startled by Neal’s intense regard. Neal turned, glanced at everyone and gasped, “B-but I had nothing whatsoever to do with it! I _promise! **Truly!”**_

Several mouths twitched at his almost desperate entreaty, and Mozzie said, amused, “He’s so much more believable when he’s actually guilty!”

 

“But Moz – Di, Tammy – I - ” Neal started again, completely thrown by this.

 

Lira sighed. “The blue in Theo’s eyes comes from Neal’s genetics, Tamlin and Diana, almost without question. I could not blend your genetics perfectly without a miniscule aliquot of male, Earthling genes. I had sample blueprints from every Earthling other than June and Elizabeth, all the males had been injured, so I knew them. I blended them all together and used a tiny bit to fuse half of each of your genetic materials together.”

 

“So you’re telling me that taking this very small amount of mixed, male, Earthling DNA – genetic code – made Theo possible and it just happened to give him Neal’s bright blue eyes?” Diana demanded.

 

Lira nodded. “The fact that it is noticeable at all is astounding, to be honest.”

 

Diana looked from one to the other and said, “B-but what else could he have inherited from Neal?” Her apprehensive tone suggested that she already saw Theo in a teeny-tiny, orange jump suit and white sneakers, with assorted forged bonds, Raphael’s, and Picasso’s decorating his cell walls!

 

“Perhaps, dear Diana, you are lucky it is his eye-colour!” Brak chuckled.

 

“Truly, it was such a small amount, dear,” Lira said. “They fact that he is male and has blue eyes _also_ – I cannot explain it.”

 

“But – you believe me – my fault it is not?” Neal repeated.

 

“This is normally when he runs, Lira,” Mozzie told her, “especially when accused by someone as fierce as Diana! Please put his mind at rest.”

 

“Neal did not even know I had used any other material other than Tammy’s and yours, Diana. I considered telling you the situation, but it seemed as though it might bother you and vital it should not be. Theo is approximately ninety-nine-point-nine-nine-seven per cent material from you and Tammy.”

 

Neal sighed exaggeratedly in relief.

 

“Is it that bothersome to you, Diana?” Steel asked, quietly.

 

“It’s just so typically _Neal!”_ Diana groaned, frustrated. “Creeping about and picking locks and breaking in, forging and counterfeiting!” Then she relaxed a little, shook her head. “I would rather Theo was here, with blue eyes, than not. I just felt…tricked. By Neal! Now that Lira has explained, it’s really nothing.”

 

Neal took Theo and handed him off to Tammy and took Diana’s hands. “I am so sorry it worked out this way, Diana, if it offends you. Had Lira asked, I would have told her to just use honest, FBI DNA – Peter’ and Jones’. And I know you and Mozzie have grown close. I love Theo, and would if he had – _purple_ eyes!”

 

Diana looked at him and reluctantly smiled. “Only you, Caffrey! Only you!” And, to his vast relief – Diana was a dangerous woman, even totally unarmed – she threw her arms round him and his hands came up onto her back and he hugged her close and she snuggled into him and said, “Theo already loves you and Mozzie and June and Brak and Ophera and the Lord almost as much as Tam and I – many women have a baby with a man they know almost _nothing_ about!

“I have Rachel’s files on all of you except Mozzie! She knew more about _you_ than the combined Law Enforcement of the planet! And she was Mozzie-ish enough to have it all on hard-copies! We’ve still got them!”

 

Neal threw back his head and laughed. Diana’s husky, sexy voice – and it was! – telling him something that at one time would have made him cringe.

 

“And yeah,” Diana said to him, softly, “that was the old Caffrey. You’ve changed, Neal. I truly just didn’t know how you’d finagled it!”

 

“I’m – I’m honoured to have even a miniscule part in the making of Theo, Sweetie,” he said to her, hugging her again before letting her go.

 

“It was at a point where I had created this viable single cell,” Lira explained. “Which was something of a challenge, as the genetic codes are very different, and then remain stable it would not. I had to make a choice, and did the best thing I could – er- conceive. And then the – zygote, did you say, Mozzie? – divided to the normal eight cells, and I immediately implanted it into your womb, Diana, so that the cells could await the invitation to divide further and start to specialise.”

 

“You are a fascinating being, Lira,” Tammy said. “I am so grateful that you made Theo possible. And I think Neal’s eyes are beautiful.”

 

“Yes, yes, of course!” Diana pouted a little. Then she grinned. “I wonder if Mozzie can invent a tracking anklet for a child just learning to crawl…”

 

“Theo is named for me, Diana, so like me, he’d gnaw his leg off at the knee!”

 

“And at this age, he’s quite flexible enough to do so!” Tammy swung her baby round.

 

Everyone was talking and laughing, a little from relief!

 

“They say it takes a village to raise a child,” Neal pointed out to Tammy. “This child has a Keep and a whole bunch of people on Earth, too – he’ll have a very varied education!”

 

“And tonnes of love,” Mozzie agreed, smoothing Theo’s cheek.

 

 

 

Neal finished his paintings and jumped back to Alex’s house-in-the-woods. It was morning there and he could hear Alex singing in the shower. He grinned to himself, and Rebecca said, “So the Chiri jumped you here – or can you do it yourself, Neal?”

He spun round, every hair lifting, despite the fact that Lira herself had told him that Rebecca’s character would have changed after her healing.

 

“She had been damaged a great deal emotionally, Neal,” Lira had said. “You do know that experiencing fear, anger, stress, loneliness, grief, they change the brain itself? It damages it. We humans are not meant to experience such negative things, and Rebecca had done so for many winters!

         “She had also suffered head injuries on three occasions, and two were substantial enough to alter her personality. However, she is very strong, that lady, responded very well to three times we sang for her – Kitran at Camber, and then myself, here. I would not have let her go back to Earth as she was, she was a danger to herself and others.”

 

Reminding himself of this, Neal smiled at her only a little warily. “They don’t need to come with us – you know that!”

 

She gave him a knowing look and said, “You came to see Alex? We went cross-country skiing around the area to see the beautiful frost this morning, and she got cold. She’ll be a while! Loves her long showers, that one!” She sat, crossing her long legs and looking up at him. “Do you want anything? Tea? Coffee? Hot chocolate or something?”

 

Neal shook his head and sat opposite her. Alex was going through her Christmas Carol repertoire, and Rebecca and Neal grinned at each other involuntarily as she missed the top note in ‘It Came Upon a Midnight Clear’, and tried the same bar several times, sounding vindicated when she got it and continued.

 

“She’s special, Neal,” Rebecca told him. “I can see why you loved her.”

 

“Of course you can. You incorporated her into your original Rebecca,” Neal said, and couldn’t quite keep the bitterness out of his voice.

 

“I’m sorry, Neal,” she said, shifting uneasily in her seat. “None of that was supposed to go the way it did. I had a whole different plan. Yes, I meant to con you, yes I meant to have you find a way to steal Chapter 13. You were supposed to like me. I didn’t expect to be around long enough for you to fall for me or me to fall for you, to be honest.”

 

Neal watched her. She looked rather like his Rebecca, physically, though her hair was shorter, but he was quite well aware how different she was: her mannerisms, her voice, her accent, her whole energy. There was none of the puppy-eagerness of the innocent-seeming girl he’d met. This woman was self-contained, and reminded him of a high-born Englishwoman. He wondered about _her_ background.

 

Rebecca sighed and went on, “Then I had to try and save you from that weasel, Hagen. He wanted to kill Mozzie in front of you and then kill you. He wanted revenge for the bond caper you had destroyed. Well – I can understand that. It sounds as though he had a solid plan. But revenge is such a waste of time. Only effectual if it sends a message, and you and Mozzie kept such a low profile, the message wouldn’t have rippled far. Most of the criminal networks had not properly understood your secondment to the FBI! There were only rumours.”

 

“I can forgive you Hagen. Not the way I like things handled, you know that, but you had few other choices. I can’t forgive you Mozzie.”

 

She shrugged. “I never got the connection. He resembles the invisible man! You, I followed and documented, as well as all the agents. I _saw_ him a number of times – coming to or leaving your place, but would always lose him. He would have made a spy par excellence! I knew you were friends, once we were working together, but it was only after Alex told me a few things…I’m sorry, Neal.

............“But truly, Mozzie was supposed to become ill, to be a distraction _after_ you and he had got the trail of the diamond. He was quite sure he knew how to find it. Such a pity!” She sighed, quietly. “I could have loved you both. He is cerebral, unfathomable and cute.

.............“Still, no use crying over spilt milk. Had I never joined MI6, which eventually sent me down that career path, I would never have met you at all.”

 

“That was a magnificent con,” Neal told her, appreciating the stark contrasts between ‘his’ original Rebecca and the woman who sat across from him.

 

“Thank you.” She said it simply, but with deep regret.

 

“You know,” Neal felt compelled to say, having listened to a verse of Silent Night from the bathroom, “the thing that burned me about that con of yours…well, if I trust that you are telling the truth about Siegel and Mozzie…”

 

“Siegel! I was framed for Siegel. Why on earth would I kill him? Better to kill Burke! Siegel meant little to you, and he was a lightweight.”

 

“Siegel? A lightweight?”

 

“Compared to you, Mozzie, Berrigan, Burke, Jones – yeah! Pretty- boy, not bad deductive skills for a beat cop. Pity Hagen killed him! You could have had such fun running him around like a puppy on a leash! I wish we could have enjoyed that together! It is my policy to avoid killing cops and agents if I can. I was something like one, once, and most of them are just doing their best.”

 

“Burke and I thought you’d killed him because he found your base, The Cooper Building?” Neal felt something niggling in the back of his mind.

 

“Nah, he never came near the place. I’d have just moved. Tell Mozzie he’s smart – Alex told me he has several dens. I had three set up. All I had to do was torch the files and things at that address, everything was set up to do so, wiring in the walls. The FBI never found all that? Hmph!” She snorted genteelly and derisively.

 

“Yeah, Rebecca, pity we didn’t find each other before we were all damaged.”

 

“Been a blast, babe!” she joked. “Don’t look like that. I know you won’t ever really feel safe around me.” She suddenly produced a pistol from her inner pocket, the action fast and smooth as silk. Neal recoiled almost as much as it would: a M1911A1. She smoothed her hand down it. “Still love these babies. As handguns, I mean. 460 Rowland 70 g bullet, slim and easy to conceal and stops the other guy efficiently…” She looked straight at Neal, solemn, then turned it and handed it to him grip-first. “Safety’s on,” she added.

 

He took it as though he was trying to preserve prints, single finger and thumb. She laughed. “I know you’re a crack shot, Neal!”

 

He smiled a little and took the pistol properly and held it on his thigh. “Such a light little thing, considering the amount of death and suffering it can produce. Is this supposed to make me feel safe in your presence?”

 

“Let’s say safer. Unless I missed something – and I don’t believe I did – I could kill you where you sit whether or not you were actually aiming that at me, safety off.”

 

“That must make you feel confident.”

 

“If you’re in the business, you’re just trying to be better than the other guy. We’re all good, or we’re dead. Therefore, luck becomes a factor in ways I dislike.” She turned as they heard the shower stop. “Alex will be out…well, soonish!”

 

“You’re far more masculine than you pretended,” Neal commented. “And you may as well just have this back.” He handed her the pistol.

 

She smiled at him. “Can I just say I hope you find happiness, Neal? You weren’t happy when I…knew you.”

 

“No,” Neal said. “You gave me some pleasurable times that made me feel better about my life. I should thank you. And I have found a much better life now.”

 

“The alien planet was surprisingly nice, wasn’t it? I enjoyed myself. There were no spies, no police. Wish I’d been born there.”

 

“But you chose to come back?”

 

“Yes. You’ll find this hard to believe, but I wanted to come back and protect Earth.”

 

Neal shook his head. “Most people feel like that.”

 

“Well, I should leave you alone, Neal. Alex will be dressed in about – oh, fifteen minutes! I can’t think of anything much to say to you that you wish to hear.” She stood, much more graceful than her Rebecca-alias of yore.

 

Neal stood, too. “Rebecca, I just came to give Alex this little parcel. I – I don’t need to see her, would rather not. We’ve made our peace with each other.”

 

“I’ll see she gets it.”

 

Neal turned and said, the thought popping into his head almost as he said it, surprising him, “One of the things I hated most about you conning me – if I ignore the whole assassin/sniper aspect! – is the fact that you gave my handler a stick to beat me with.”

 

“The con conned?” Rebecca asked, her blue eyes widening. “What you hated about being lied to for months was being teased about it?”

 

“Other than the killings, I can respect a good con. You were good. You know, the easiest person to sell to is a good salesman? – they love watching you work, love that you get it right. They’ll buy from you even if they don’t really need it, if they respect you. Same thing. Your cover was good, your character, the whole package.”

 

“Too easy. I never felt good about it. It was too easy. You had no-one but Mozzie, Neal. A rank amateur could have led you on, you so desperately needed acceptance and love and the joy of good sex. You’re normally better than that – me accepting you as a criminal on the turn, not even a little anger? I had to play it that way, I was running out of time. I did _not_ think that would work! I was sorry for you, and that was my undoing – then I saw the nice guy I was conning!” She shrugged. Then asked, “So what did you hate? Burke - he used me against you?”

 

“He had been my friend, months before, but he had become spiteful. He loved that I got what I deserved. It hurt, watching him be like that. Almost as much as it hurt to lose someone I thought I was coming to love.”

 

“Mmm – any consolation, Neal, I’ve had a few friends like that myself. Helps if you realise that if a person like that can hurt you, it’s because you’re allowing them to, needlessly.

“And it should make you feel better that you, the goodness of your heart, overcame my con. I did fall in love with you.” Her eyes were huge, and glittered before she looked down. “Sorry. Funny how much more vulnerable I am now that I’m not a hardened killer!”

 

Neal was touched with sympathy. He wished he could love her. He answered, “I’ll go now. Give Alex my love. And – and I hope you are healed, Rebecca. I hope you’re the person you should have been. I don’t ever want to be like Burke, not believing in anybody. Everybody has the right to second chances, third, fourth…I hope you can find happiness, fulfilment, love, whatever. Don’t hurt Alex, or any of my friends because you under-estimate me, Rebecca. I have taken people down before.”

 

“If only to refrain from putting you in that position, Neal,” she smiled, and _boy_ , he thought, _it looks sincere!,_ “I will not hurt any of your friends. Alex has been very kind. Probably the first real friend I’ve had since school.

         “I’ll go and make some tea and give you the privacy to translate. I must try that. Could come in useful.” She walked out of the door and then stuck her head back in. “Leave the ammo on the side-table, Neal. It’s not that cheap. Think I wouldn’t notice the weight difference?” She smiled wickedly at him and he smiled back. He dribbled the large slugs noisily into the empty glass candy dish, and jumped, not bothering to wait till she had gone. She might not perfect the jumping, but she already had guessed he could.

 

 

 

The next evening both Steel and his youngest son were free. They walked along to the Lord’s suite, talking about the horses and the blizzard that had blown in through the day. Neal had made sure everyone’s fires were burning brightly, and the children had run here and there taking extra wood and coal to each room, which they bought from Sunder for times such as this.

 

“I prefer watching a wood fire, and we have our own wood-lots, but it is nice to be able to pile the fire high with coal and leave it right through the night when this cold it is!” Steel said, closing the doors behind them. “Now, do we need wine or any other thing, Neal?”

 

“No. There is something I hope you will do for me, my Lord. Oh, hallo, Des, hallo Dam!” The two huge dog-like creatures gambolled around him, ears flattened. “They are like puppies, Lord! They could knock me flying, but they are very careful!”

 

“They love you, Neal. They tolerate most of my slaves: they do not eat them! But they tend to enjoy the Earthlings’ company.”

 

“Most of us have had dogs…something very like these, though half the weight. Most a great deal less! Some are the size of your chickens or smaller.”

 

“What use are they for protection or hunting, Neal?” Steel asked, puzzled.

 

Neal laughed. “The very small ones are for companionship only. Some people have nothing but an animal, and live in very cramped conditions.”

 

“How sad.”

 

They sat side by side on the long couch in front of the fire. Most rooms in the castle had a couch where people could sit and enjoy the warmth and the beauty of the flames, and the company of friends. This one was slightly curved. The dogs lay down on either side of them. Dam put her large head on Neal’s feet.

 

“Now, Neal – what can I do for you?”

 

“By chance, my Lord, or some greater design, I have been brought into contact with the women who have been part of my life. Except Kate, of course. Kate spent more time with me than any of the others, but we were so young, I doubt we knew each other very well – or ourselves, at that time of our lives!”

 

“It would be nice to find a woman who will complement your life now, Neal.”

 

“It would. But we have changed, my Lord. A war is an intense experience. It causes all humans, I believe, to examine their lives, their priorities and needs. When I talk to those women, when I look back, I am not the same man I was when I knew them. Perhaps we are all pretending, but they seem more similar to their previous selves than do I!”

 

“You have grown apart because of the dramatic happenings?”

 

“Indeed. I wish to pursue a woman, Lord, I want a partner, as Mozzie has a partner, if there is such a woman in existence.”

 

“I am sure there is, my son!”

 

“Well, there is Aramalitha, Lord.”

 

Steel turned to look into his eyes. “But Neal, you were so adamant that it would be unfair to that lady for you to expose her to your past!”

 

“It seems that despite my letter and gift, she is distressed at having the possible friendship terminated. Thervessalon wrote to me concerning her ongoing sadness, and asked for an explanation.”

 

“Oops!” Steel said, smiling, wryly.

 

“Well, if I found that Shiral or Merritt were miserable, I would wish to know the cause and see if it could be rectified, so I cannot think badly of him, my Lord. And I have been thinking about it and perhaps I was precipitate. After all, there have been full Laffay women marrying warriors, men who have experienced even worse things than I. One married your father, who was not soft and gentle, by all accounts!”

 

“I begin to understand.”

 

“Perhaps you do, my Lord. I still have my reservations. I obviously have never had anyone know me inside and out, all the good and the bad, as that relationship would bring. It is a very unusual thing, you understand, for a conman, a criminal, a man for whom secrets are a way of life. Have always been a way of life! Whose very life depended on layer upon layer of deception, and only that made him feel safe.”

 

“Yes, I do understand that, Neal. I was very surprised when Mozzie volunteered to have the Chiri read his very genetic material, all the memories to periods of time before he was born!”

 

“Exactly so, my Lord. I believe, though, that it would be possible for you to do it for me, would it not?”

 

Lord Steel’s eyes opened wide and he looked down into the laughing blue eyes of his son. “ _What,_ Neal?”

 

“If I were to drop all my shields, my Lord, could you read me to something of the extent that Aramalitha could?”

 

“But you would not want that, Neal!”

 

“You had the recent occasion to tell me, Lord, that I did not trust you. But I do, and that completely.”

 

“If we did this, and it would be possible to at least a large extent, I believe, it would never be possible to shut me out completely again, Neal – not without a great deal of effort and training.”

 

Neal considered that, and shrugged.

 

Steel went on, “If we managed a perfect _read_ , I would know all your life, all your crimes, all your mischief, every bad thing you ever did.”

 

“Mm. I did consider all of those things. Strangely, those do not give me pause, Lord! I feel less comfortable about you knowing all the times I was spurned by a girl or a woman, all the stupid things I did and how humiliated I felt - and all the times I was humiliated by women!”

 

Lord Steel’s face changed and he laughed. Neal smiled at him, and his father hugged him to his side and said, “That, also, I understand.”

 

“If a scene keeps me awake seasons and seasons after the event, it is seldom some terrible happening, in terms of blood or pain or some evil I have committed or even that was committed against me – unless the person was someone I held dear – but if I am embarrassed and mortified, even if the situation has been trivial in the eyes of others, the memory is like a small buzzing insect in the room with me, or a roof that leaks, dripping water onto a wooden floor! Those things can take many winters for the insult to wane!

...........“It is a sad commentary on my character that I am kept awake more by petty humiliations than by overwhelming guilt.”

         Neal chewed a finger-end a moment, thinking and then said, “That might be why I am able to be a criminal. No conscience about doing bad things!”

 

“No, son! I think we are the same, many humans are.

“When I first carried a sword I was so proud. I was really only a child – I mean I was _much_ younger and smaller than are you! I walked into the dininghall at Betchem, you know how big, populated and well-appointed it is – and I tripped. I am not sure how, but I tumbled to the floor. The clatter sounded in my ears like a whole weapon’s-rack had fallen!

         “The Lord and Lady, and most of the adults were kind enough to come immediately to my aid and postulate that the rug had caught my foot, or a chair had been pushed out – but the children laughed. I knew I had tripped over my sword and so did they!

.........“I am sure I would have laughed spontaneously, too, you understand, at another’s like misfortune, but I wished myself dead in that moment more than at far more dreadful and dangerous instances in my life.”

 

Neal chuckled sympathetically. “I am sure there is not a child or young adult who has not had a similar experience, perhaps to teach us to pretend that the rug was hitched up when we see it happen to others! I wonder why those silly things loom so large in our memories!”

 

“Yes, the sting remains even when sufficient time and experience has come between us and them that we can bring ourselves to laugh at them!

..........“And sadly, I spent so much time at Betchem and Camber that often there was a sizeable audience of youngsters, many older than I, to laugh at me and bring them to remembrance even when I had forgotten!”

 

“But to balance the scales, I am sure you remember silly things they did, my Lord!”

 

“Well, not so many! It is unfair! I was much younger, very much younger than most of them. They had gained more control of their mouths, their arms and legs – their swords!”

 

Neal laughed and cuddled up to the larger man. Partly out of affection, partly from the cold that he was probably imagining from the faint screeching of the wind that he could hear outside the thickly-curtained windows.

 

After some moments of silence, Lord Steel asked, “You are certain you wish to try this _read_ , just to make sure you could court Aramalitha? How is it going to help, though, Neal?”

 

“Mostly for that, my Lord. Partly so you see that I trust you with – well, with my life and all its memories! – and partly because we can. I can share things with you.

         “But I would prefer if you were horrified at my crimes than amused at my defeats and discomfitures…or at least pretend to be!

         “And I do not know Aramalitha, Lord! She attracted me right from the first, she is quite beautiful, and seems very sweet-natured. But we may not be suited.”

 

“And then you would have bared your soul to me for nothing?”

 

“No regrets, Lord. I told you, I trust you.”

 

The fire seemed to be dying down a little, so Neal gently pushed Dam to one side, knelt down and fiddled with the ember-bed, added more split logs and blew on it a little with the reed-tube kept for that purpose, before kneeling back and watching it take.

 

“I will always remember you kneeling on the floor over by the bathroom door, so covered in cobwebs and dust that I could not recognise you by sight!” Lord Steel remarked, looking down at the dark curls, the ends catching the light of the flames and creating a halo. “How terrified you were at first, of my flaming anger, how swiftly adept you were to reverse the situation and start trying to appease me, how you ended up sleeping with the dogs on their mats, perfectly comfortable!”

 

Neal smiled a little bashfully. “That is one of the times I felt stupid, Lord. I had no idea I was going to burst in on my Lord! I did not know you as well then as I do now, and was not sure, as I knelt there, how you would react, even when the fire-angel-symbiote had withdrawn.

         “I – er – I was surprised that you called me so harshly on not obeying you a little while ago, it seemed less dire than that incident.”

 

“If felt your complete astonishment I had not, if understood that the intrusion was a total accident I had not, you would indeed have experienced how fierce I can be!”

 

Neal came back to sitting on the couch, half-hugging Steel, who shifted so they were both comfortable, each with one arm around the other. “Considering the breadth of your power over us all, you are the mildest of men! When I saw you dealing with Peter, all that time ago, when he was being stubborn and defiant – any lesser man would have had him whipped or executed!”

 

Steel sighed. “ Great power demands great self-control, great discipline, Neal – but I would have, if he had the slightest idea of what he was about! Nothing appeasing about Peter!”

 

Neal grinned. “You are right, my Lord! And totally insensitive to the atmosphere around him!”

 

“And I was seriously displeased about your disobedience, but I was also sure there was something behind it, it was so different to your normal behaviour, son. I repeatedly tried to encourage you to explain, but even threats did nothing to accomplish that!”

 

“I was so confused and tired, I was acting stupidly.”

 

“You will never be able to keep secrets such as that one from me again, Neal, if we go ahead,” his Lord warned.

 

“Keeping that secret worked out so beneficially for me, did it not? I think that if you had read me you could have helped me earlier!”

 

“You are sure, Neal? Have you spoken to Mozzie about this? He may think differently about it.”

 

“He can say nothing to me, after letting Lira search his very cell-memory! I will never feel comfortable pursuing a relationship with Aramalitha – if her large cousin does not forbid it, after all that has happened! – if I have not shared my soul, and you are the only one who can and with whom I feel at ease doing so.”

 

“I am honoured that you trust me enough, Neal. I have shared with other empaths throughout my life. Not everything, except possibly with my mother, when there was not much of my life to share! – but for someone for whom empathy of this kind is a new concept, it must be frightening.”

 

“With anyone else, other than Mozzie or June, I would be extremely uncomfortable. Of course, any conman – such as Mozzie – has some empathy, normal Earthling empathy. Anyone who loves, as the three of us do are more aware of each others emotions and thoughts than a strangers. But you found me when Mozzie and I were trying to be…secretive. Until I learned to shield.”

 

Steel turned to Neal, his eyes alight with glee. “Of course I shall _read_ you, Neal. As deeply and invasively as it is possible for someone with the level of empathy I possess!”

 

“My Lord?” Neal queried, a little unnerved by Steel’s wolfish expression.

 

“I shall finally find out who stole one large piece of meat!”

 

Neal sighed. Perhaps he should rethink this!

 

 

 

 

The End of Chapter 34.

 

Sorry everyone, as I replied to a few commenters, have had a wild weather and weird irritations bit that kept me from Keeping up...but I shall try and get the next chapter up in a more timely fashion!

 

I will finish this for those still with me. But would love to know you're out there and what you like or don't, if you can.

 

 


	35. The Dead Past Burying it's Dead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steel finds out that there's much more to Neal's background than he'd ever guessed...
> 
> Photo credits - From People.com Credit: Courtesy USA; Inset: Getty  
> http://www.people.com/people/gallery/0,,20666989_21269039,00.html  
> I don't own them or make $ from them...pity, but there you are!
> 
> I'm not trying to stick too faithfully to canon, or what Neal tells Peter outside the Cave.

 

 

 

“How do we go about this exercise, my Lord?” Neal asked, deciding to ignore the meat question.

 

“I have little idea, son! I think we should both be comfortable, and – well, you need to take down those shields, rather impressive shields for an Earthling, I have always thought.” He watched and felt as Neal carefully imagined the walls falling, rolling up, withdrawing, leaving all of him without any skin, any armour, any protection. It felt very strange to the gifted conman. He had started putting these up when he was a young child, he realised. He had never felt this safe before. Steel felt the stab of love at Neal’s thought, and followed it down into Neal’s inner being.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Neal is looking up at his mother. She is very close, so he can see her properly, even with his baby eyes. She is beautiful with a mother’s love, it shines from her face. Behind her stands his father, a blurred image, but talking to him, saying loving things. He gurgles his delight and waves a small half-fisted hand…

 

 

 

Neal is playing in the small front yard. He is covered with mud and dead, wetted grass-clippings, and the sun is hot on his head, though the cloud shadows chase each other over the grass now that they are breaking apart. His daddy comes out and places a shade hat on his head.

 

“What are you doing, Neal? I think you are supposed to be on the tarp, little son.”

 

“Mph?” Neal answers. “Makin’ pud muddles, Daddy.”

 

“And very nice ones, Neal. The best I’ve ever seen. But I think your mother might – oh, well, you can’t get much dirtier! Just promise you won’t walk into the house like that? I’ll hose you off first! I’m glad you took off your shoes! That was very sensible for when you are making pud muddles!”

 

Neal isn’t quite sure what his dad is talking about, but he sounds pleased with him, so that’s good. He offers his father some mud, and when the man with the very blue eyes declines, shows him how good it is by tasting it himself. The man laughs and says, “Don’t do that, Nealkins! I’m sure your mother will say you’re spoiling your dinner!”

 

 

 

Neal is lying in bed. He’s warm and he’s supposed to be asleep, but he knows his father and mother are arguing. They think he doesn’t know they argue when he’s in bed. He’s quite aware that they pretend everything is fine for him. He doesn’t understand and it makes him feel small and alone, and unsafe, because they are his world! He loves them both, why can’t they love each other? He sort of loves his daddy a little more, so he pretends he loves his mother a lot, because it isn’t fair that he loves his daddy best – but his daddy plays with him. He’s not there all the time, he goes off to someplace called Work, but when he’s home he tries to play. Neal hates this place that takes his daddy away so often. His mother is often busy and a little impatient with him, especially when he tries to make things more pretty.

         She didn’t like the picture he made on the wall with the charcoal from the fireplace, she washed it off and hardly looked at it! She didn’t like his collection of beetles and butterflies. They were all dead, and many of them had lost a wing, but that is how he’d found them: on the grass, on the car grill. She’d thrown them out. He had been sad and thought she was a little hard to please.

         So he loves his easy-going, big, strong daddy, with his gun that smells so good, and his special hat! But he pretends he loves his mother more, to make up for not making her happy in other ways and making all the extra work for her. He even eats that nasty slimy breakfast she makes him sometimes.

 

 

 

It’s sort of a day like any other, but his daddy says Good-bye as he goes to Work as though it isn’t any other day. Neal sits on the front step and watches his father leave and wonders. Is it his birthday soon, or Christmas? His daddy is excited about something. He notices the spring in his father’s step. He always can tell his father’s mood by the way he walks. His mother always walks the same, kinda slow or kinda hurried, but always the same. His daddy’s steps have moods.

 

Then that evening, all at once their little house is full of men. Talking loudly, angrily, it seems to Neal. They are all huge: it is like being surrounded by large, moving, angry trees. They ignore him. The speak loudly to each other, to his mother, to Kathryn. When he tries to ask where his daddy is, the men speak more quietly, Kathryn looks sad, his mother cries. He stops asking. But he wants to know, because his daddy would get all these noisy men that speak at his mother and ignore him out of their house.

 

But his daddy doesn’t come.

 

He takes to sitting in the front window, from where he could always see his father walking towards the house, coming home, coming to him. He’s out of the way there. One man stood on his pencil and broke it yesterday. Sometimes his mommy goes with the men, and a stranger, a woman he doesn’t know, stays in the same room with him. It scares him a lot. Nothing is the same. And when his mommy comes home she scoops him up and buries her face in his neck and cries, and no-one ever answers his questions.

 

And then there’s even more urgency. He’s told they have to leave the little house. _But how will Daddy find us, then?_ He wonders if Mommy will leave a note, as she does for Daddy not to forget to buy milk or bread. He can’t, because he can only just write his name. He wants to tell Daddy not to forget him. He looks on the fridge and there’s a note from a few days ago. He remembers his mother putting it there, about buying eggs. He drags over his little chair that says NEAL on the back, clambers up and pulls it down and stares at the squiggles. He knows EGGS are eggs, because they look like LEGS, from his book about baby animals. So he crosses out the EGGS and writes ИEAL, and puts it back with the little heavy thing in the shape of a face. The only smiley face in the house, now.

 

He’s whisked into the back of a big car with his mommy. Kathryn leans in, smiles as though she doesn’t mean it and pats his leg and tells him everything will be all right, it’s just confusing right now. He wonders why all adults lie all the time. He stares out of the car windows into the dark, hoping so hard to see his daddy coming home.

 

He’s terribly afraid. Nothing is the same. His mommy cries a lot. He doesn’t. When he does, it makes Mommy even more sad, so he doesn’t.

         Instead of their nice house with the funny little bed that was all his, and the quiet street with trees on either side that ran across the front of the lawned garden, they’re living in an apartment in a city. There are two streets and there are cars and trucks and noisy things and people all the time. But the streets are low down. He can look down on them from the windows. The air stinks. There’s nowhere to play. There’s nowhere for anything. His mother’s clothing is hanging in the bath tub and she has to get it out for him to bath. They share a bed. He hides under the bed or goes behind the bed to play. He’s out of her sight and she doesn’t tell him to get out of the way.

 

She calls him Danny. She tells him over and over he’s not Neal any more, he’s Danny. Well, if he is, how is Daddy _ever_ going to find him? He left the note for Daddy to remember _Neal_. He does cry, now, but only in bed when he doesn’t think anyone can hear and it sounds as though his mother is sleeping at last.

 

 

 

One afternoon Kathryn comes and takes him to the park. It’s raining, but that doesn’t bother Neal. He likes the rain. Kathryn tells him her name is Ellen and reminds him that his is Danny. He sighs heavily. Kathryn is also lying.

         “It’s like make-believe, Danny! You’re Danny now and I’m Ellen. We have to remember, or the witch might be able to find us! So we have to pretend.”

 

Neal is puzzled. Daddy told him there were no such things as witches and monsters and bad things under the bed or in the darkness. His daddy showed him the stars and told him they were angels watching out for him, and not to ever be scared of anything. He loved the night after that, especially moonless nights when he could see the stars. In the city there are no stars at night. Perhaps there were bad things in the city that ate the stars, took away the angels?

         “Pretend witches?” he asks, cautiously.

 

         “Pretend witches. But you have to be very careful or they’ll win the game.”

 

         Neal sighs again. Just saying a different name seems a boring game. “When can we go home, Ka- Ellen?”

 

“You are home, Honey. This is your home. Your name is Danny Brooks and this is your home.”

 

“I don’t like this game. I want to be Neal and I want my daddy and I want to go _home!”_

 

“Shh!” Kathryn hisses. “Don’t be naughty, Danny. You’re never sulky! What would your mommy say?”

 

Neal sighs. It is always about what his mommy would say. “Can I have some paper, Kathryn and a pencil?”

 

“I’ll get you some paper and some crayons and pencils if you always call me Ellen and answer to Danny – Danny Brooks.”

 

“I’m Danny Brooks.”

 

“Good boy!”

 

 

Neal crouches behind the bed, quiet as quiet. The light isn’t wonderful, but he has the nice sketch-book that Kath- Ellen had brought for him and the pencil and crayons. At least he has something to do, now. He practises drawing his daddy. Perhaps if he gets it just right, it will come to life like that story Ellen had read to him at the library. It is probably a lie, like everything else in his life, but he has to believe in something!

 

 

 Neal is standing quietly, watching the children playing in the park. He is supposed to go to school soon, and Kathryn is trying to encourage him to go and make some friends. But he isn’t like them. He doesn’t want to run around and laugh. He stays quiet. It’s the only way to keep his mommy happy, and then not always.

 

“But you used to play, run around, play catch, Danny?”

 

“No, I never did.”

 

“You did! I saw you!”

 

He lowers his voice and whispers, “That wasn’t me. That was Neal – with _his_ _daddy.”_

 

Ellen stares at the little boy. She’s never known such an intelligent, complicated, sensitive little fellow. Then her face lightens. “You know, when I first came here, I’d never done sales before! I was terrified! But I found out something. You want to know what?”

 

“What, Ellen?” Neal asks, obediently.

 

“There’s a song about it – if you’re afraid, pretend not to be. I won’t sing it, can’t remember the words, but that’s what came into my mind. I pretended not to be scared, I pretended to be confident and to know what was happening and pretty soon, I did! Why don’t you try it?”

 

“Pretend?”

 

“Yeah – make believe! You look at those children out there. Pick one or two that are having a great time! Watch how they smile, how they play with the others. Then pretend you’re one of them. Then you’ll fit in, just like they do. You’re the smartest kid I’ve ever known, Danny. You can do this!”

 

Neal watches. He sees the smiles, the way they touch one another, the stance. He remembers his father’s going to Work walk – confident! Determined.

 

He isn’t scared of school for the learning part. Kathryn has told him he’ll need to read and write. He’d been well on his way to reading and some writing before they moved and now, with just Ellen taking him to the library and getting him books, he could read books without pictures and write very well, too.

         But the children are all strangers, and different. They speak with funny accents and he is scared of them. But he watches dogs in the park, too…a dog that looks scared invites other dogs to jump on them, growl, attack them. Even tiny dogs, if they act really mean, can often chase off much bigger dogs! _So never show you’re scared!_

 

“I _have_ to go to school?” he asks Ellen, sadly.

 

“Yes, Danny, it’s the Law. And you’ll do _so_ well, and you’ll love it! Really!”

 

“I hate the Law. It’s horrid and mean.” By now he knows that somehow it had been the Law that had made them move, made his name Danny. No-one would explain, but he was so quiet and his mother and Ellen often talked, either forgetting him altogether or thinking that he couldn’t hear or was sleeping. He doesn’t understand what this Law is, whether it is a person or a place. But it had torn his life to shreds, and he hates it with all the passion in his big, passionate heart!

         His mother and Ellen told him that his father was a hero and had been killed helping other people. He wants so much to believe it. But he hasn’t been stuck in a corner watching people for much of his life without picking up signals. After all, children learn signals to stay alive. They are totally dependent on their parents. They need to be able to coerce them into feeding them and caring for them.

         Neal’s got the smile, he’s got the puppy-dog eyes. He’s learnt that good manners get him what he wants better than showing the anger he really feels.

         He doesn’t know the lie they’re telling, but he knows there’s another lie there somewhere. He hopes very much that the lie is that his daddy’s dead. He hopes he’ll come back and take him home. Mommy, too – but if it’s just him and Daddy, he’ll love that!

 

 

But, meanwhile…Neal takes a deep breath, puts on a smile and runs on twinkling little legs out to join the children. Kathryn watches, startled. He yells something at them, possibly his assumed name, and they start playing with him as though he’s been there all their lives. He puts on their way of talking, their smiles, their delight in a game he doesn’t care for or about. He knows he’s lying in everything he’s doing – and perhaps they’re lying, too?

 

 

The little boy doesn’t like other children much. He knows he is different, and they seem simple, to live and have lived simple lives, and they ask questions to which he has to lie. He prefers adults, and when he has a chance he escapes the confines of the horrid little apartment and goes exploring. He’s good-looking and charming, and he soon makes friends.

All around the area are old folks. They don’t go to Work, and are sometimes lonely. They are often the parents or grandparents of new immigrants, further isolated by language barriers they find tedious to break. But they see the child and ask him his name, sometimes in broken English.

Probably these seniors should insist he goes home, but they are lonely, too, and soon make sure they have little treats for him when he arrives. His bright eyes and broad smile lighten their days and his heart goes out to them, seeing their predicament. He can soon chatter in simple Italian, Polish, French, Greek and German, learning swiftly with a child’s eager brain, and he introduces some of the old women to each other, he bridges the language gap that overlies suspicions of foreigners, and soon they, without really learning each others languages, make friends, share recipes, help one another. Neal feels a sense of accomplishment, though he doesn’t understand it. In their fondness for this waif, they develop more community spirit.

 

His mother, miserable and uncommunicative, realises nothing about her son’s secret life. He learns to read from the little community of friends, and they laugh and nudge each other as he picks up idioms in their native tongues, reads letter and papers to some of the men and women whose eyesight is failing, does little chores and simple shopping – and never returns with incorrect change! Neal is loved by these people, he is the grandchild they need. They brag to one another about him! These things enrich a life that is almost insupportable. He doesn’t forget his Daddy, but he creates something of a substitute family of his own.

 

 

Time passes.

 

 

Neal is doing well in school. His marks are very high. Most of the teachers love him: he works hard, he’s quiet, he never makes trouble. He’s a nice-looking child. Some of the teachers, unbeknownst to Neal, have expressed concerns: he’s too good, too quiet. They make remarks like “Still waters run deep” and they mistrust the white grin that lights up his face. “Too good to be true.”

 

 

 

Neal pretends a lot more, now. Being Danny at school and everywhere to everyone has become second nature. He still feels different and backs away from groups and any leadership position. The teachers who like him encourage him, and write notes trying to get his mother to take more part in school activities so that her son will blossom more. Neal carefully destroys them, either when given to him or when the mail arrives. He’s not an idiot!

 

His mother has withdrawn more and more, acting more strangely. She often smells funny. She drinks things out of tall bottles. And then she is worse. Neal has had to grow up very fast. He tells no-one, and actively hides the secret. He knows his mother is hiding it, too. He finds the tall bottles in the closet, in the winter boots. Behind the cleaning stuff in the kitchen. He realises after a while that Ellen knows. So now the three of them are sharing a secret. Not like presents at Christmas or birthdays. This is a horrible secret. They never talk about it to each other or anyone else, and it never ends.

 

 

One day when Neal gets home, there’s a man there with his mom. They both turn and smile at Neal. Neal’s smiles are never that fake. He’s better than that. The atmosphere in the little apartment is palpable. He doesn’t know exactly what’s going on, but his skin crawls. Somehow he knows that this means his dad is never coming back to them. He stands in the doorway and wants to run…well, actually, what he wants to do is throw the man out. (What he wants is for his father to appear and throw the man out.)

         “Come in, Danny. This is Vince. Say hello, Danny.”

 

“Hallo,” Neal says, still standing in the doorway, still holding his bag.

 

“You’n’I’re goin’ be good friends, Dan! You and your mom and me, we’ll make a family, you see?”

 

Neal says nothing. He tries desperately to think of some reason that the man has to go, but his mom calls him in and they all sit in the tiny little room and he tries to do some homework on the outside and plan the man’s demise on the inside. They eat and the man and his mom leave him alone in the apartment. He lies down but doesn’t sleep till his mom comes to bed, as the sky is lightening.

 

At first Vince's all smiles and promises, but it’s obvious that having a child there is a big disadvantage. He brings better food, clothes for his mom, so Neal waits, thinking perhaps he’s wrong. His mother seems happier, she doesn’t drink so much now that she has Vince, and that is good. But Neal tries hard to avoid going to Ellen’s, always making excuses when his mom suggests it. He doesn’t trust Vince.

 

Neal sees his foreign friends less. School and set activities have taken him away from them already, and now he feels he needs to be there for his mother, and he tries not to resent this. Especially when he finds one of them has gone to be in Heaven when he does find time to visit, and the others sadly tell him. There begins to be a deep-seated conviction that caring for anyone can cause hurt. It has happened too often to the child, and he’s not stupid.

 

After about two months, the smiles have been replaced with scowls and yells and loud arguments. Neal’s mom shushes Vince when Neal gets home, but that doesn’t last. Many of the arguments are about him, and now his mom begs him to go to Ellen’s – and sometimes he goes, and sometimes when he next sees his mom, there are bruises on her face and more often on her arms, and she moves as though she’s been tackled once too often in football practice.

 

“I’m telling Ellen,” Neal says. He has no idea who to tell. He doesn’t trust the police, they’re part of the Law. He has no-one to trust, Ellen has lied to him, but Ellen’s better than no-one.

 

“No, no, please, Danny – I fell. I fell, really.”

 

“Those are finger-marks, Mom!”

 

“I fell and Vince caught me. Or I’d have gone right down the stairs! He saved me, Danny!”

 

Neal is unaware of the weird and dark tunnels down which love can crawl. He cannot believe that his mom is lying for a person who hurts her, who seems to need this man and yet the man seems to hurt her. His disbelief in such darkness gives Vince a stronger hold on his mother, and then when Neal is trying to study, sitting on the bed trying desperately to ignore another ‘conversation’ where Vince is criticising everything and his mother is trying to placate him, Vince suddenly says, “This is all your fault,” and the back of his hand makes contact with Neal’s face and Neal, caught totally unawares, goes backwards off the bed.

 He’s stunned at first. He can hear his mother sobbing and Vince threatening her, telling her to shut up. Neal scrambles up, still seeing stars. Vince says to his mother, “There you are! He’s all right! What he needs is to be shown his place, that’s all!”

 “A-are you all right, Danny?” his mother sobs, not attempting to approach him.

 “I’m all right, Mom. I’m fine.” He sees Vince’s threatening stance. But at this, Vince smiles his smug smile and says, “Told you. Good boy!”

 

So now there’s another secret. Vince’s anger turns more and more against Neal, it seems. If Neal is late, or early, or says something Vince doesn’t like, or doesn’t say anything at all he says he needs to punish him, teach him a lesson and punches the boy in the stomach and throws him into the closet and blocks the door. Neal is more bewildered than ever that his mom still seems to want to make this man happy, to want to have him around, but he takes it because now Vince hits him, not his mother.

 

Now he can’t visit his old friends, they are smart and he is afraid they will notice. His mother wants it a secret, and he feels ashamed. His Daddy wouldn’t allow anyone to hit him, but he’s too small…and perhaps it’s his fault, somehow? Things go wrong around him all the time.

He’s black and blue more than not and sits in the dark in the closet, miserable and angry and so confused that his dad doesn’t come and save them. That would seem to be the right thing to happen. It would happen in books. But in real life, it doesn’t.

 

About two months later Vince misjudges, because Neal instinctively ducks and he catches Neal on the side of the head with his fist. Neal is knocked unconscious for a while, and is dizzy and nauseous when he becomes aware. He has a terrible headache and is now truly afraid of Vince and he can’t keep it out of his eyes. His mom cries. Part of his anger has been turning against her for not stopping Vince, and now that part blossoms into real resentment.

 

But the teachers at his school have been noticing the boy’s stiffness, his lack of enthusiasm in games, his rapidly deteriorating schoolwork. At the sight of his poorly-covered bruise, they take him to the Principal, who calls in the police, though Neal desperately tries to stop them by using the same foolish lies his mother had told him.

 There is a doctor and a policewoman, and they take pictures of his body. All his body. The doctor does worse things to him than Vince had done. He cringes in horror and embarrassment. He’s a failure. He’s a loser. He can’t protect himself, he can’t protect his mom. He doesn’t break down and cry - _never show you’re afraid! -_ but it’s a close thing. He wants to crawl into a corner and disappear. They ask him questions that make him feel even worse. About whether he had let this man touch him ‘inappropriately’. They see that he’s weak and evil. He just shakes his head, but they insist, “You have to tell us, Danny. You have to tell us in words.”

 

_There is nowhere to hide._

 

When he goes home, his mother wants to hold him, but Neal is in no mood to be touched by anyone, let alone the woman who brought this all on them.

 

         Vince is gone, but his mom is soon drinking as much as she ever did before he arrived. Neal feels sorry for her, but he is also horrified by her, disgusted by her, and guilty because he feels this way.

 

Neal stays at Ellen’s quite a lot now. She tells him his mother is sick. He knows better, but doesn’t reveal the secret. It’s better at Ellen’s. She smiles sometimes, tries to make him laugh. The food she gives him is better. He can read or do his schoolwork without interruption. Sometimes his mother seems as bad as Vince used to be and yells and throws things, and sometimes they are his books. She doesn’t really look like the mommy he remembers as a child. He’s between nine and ten, and sad and lonely inside. Sometimes very angry. Another secret.

         The children at school are nice to him, but he makes no close friends. How can you tell a child that he can’t visit you at home, that you don’t have a father and you daren’t let him see your mother? So he moves within the school jungle society, polite, keeping on their good sides, actively working at making a friend out of someone who doesn’t like him much, not bothering over-much with those who do.

         To do this, he takes part in many of the various activities, and because he’s Neal, he gets good at many of them. Some are more natural: plays, art, singing, tennis, swimming. Some need more work: team sports, dance, socialising. No-one realises how hard he works, but then, the academia comes easily to him. He’s so far ahead that his teachers argue about moving him up a grade or two: he’s bored, they say. But he carefully makes no trouble, so they leave him. It doesn’t matter to him, he reads ahead. When he gets back to class on Monday, after a weekend in the library, he’s often surprised at how basic the work is that they are teaching! Pretending interest is often his biggest make-believe. It gets harder as he picks up more subjects, but he doesn’t falter. Never know when you might need to know something.  Books, learning, activities, these don’t hurt you. These are constants. 

 

Years pass.

 

Never know when you might need something. Some _one_ – ah, there’s the problem. _Never need anyone_. He’s needed his dad to come home, had for so many years. _Don’t need anyone, they’ll let you down. or die. Don’t trust anyone: they all lie. You have to lie, that’s the way life is. It’s all lies._

But Neal learns to lie with every part of himself. The smiling eyes, the friendly touch, the grin with just a shade of mischief that belies the lack of fun in his life, the easy, confident walk. He keeps perfecting it all.

 

And then, unexpectedly, he makes a friend.

 

Neal doesn’t like small, dark apartments. He likes light. And the place he finds light at Ellen’s apartment building is on the roof. He’s not supposed to go on the roof, it’s for maintenance only, so the sign says, it isn’t very safe. But when the manager goes up there, Neal waits. The door takes a while to close and lock behind him. It always does, so the man doesn’t even look back to check it. Neal slips up the stairs like a cat and catches it. He learns to block the lock so he can always get back in, and he’s always back in when Ellen gets home.

         So one day, when he’s just out there under the little roof of the air-conditioner, watching the rain, thinking about calculus, he’s surprised by the manager, who looks a little doubtfully at him. Neal frowns. The pea-gravel spread over the roof should have warned him! He feels betrayed by the pea-gravel!

 

“Well, hallo there, kid. Who are you hiding from?”

 

“No-one,” Neal tells him, brightest smile. “I just like being out here.”

 

“Mm-hm. How old are you?” The man notes the half-second’s pause as Neal calculates what age would be the best to admit to, and grins. “Never mind. Old enough, I guess!”

 

“For?”

 

“For knowing when to lie about it! You have a name?”

 

Neal sees the sparkle and answers it. “Several.”

 

“Me, too. You can call me Jake.”

 

“Hi, Jake.”

 

“Hi. You catch the door when I go down? No, no, I don’t care. If you wanted to jump off, you’d have jumped off long ago – this has been going on a while, hasn’t it?”

 

Neal grins, doesn’t admit, doesn’t deny. Jake’s grin widens. “Why don’t I teach you to pick that lock so you can come out here any time you need to? But – _but –_ I need you to promise, in return, that you don’t damage anything and don’t jump off this roof, ever!”

 

“Teach me to pick the lock?” Neal’s eyes light up, his grin widens. “Oh, yeah, I promise!”

 

The two strike up a more-or-less instant if odd friendship. Jake is a maintenance man, manager of this and the next apartment building over. He started life as a magician. Neal thinks that would be cool. He’s seen them in films.

 

Jake has seen another side. “But, you know, the money was either good, or very bad, hard to save. Lost my wife to another man – the manager of the show I was with. More security! Tell, you, kid, security can be over-rated.”

 

“Money can’t,” Neal says, practising picking a new padlock. He knows that Ellen has got this apartment, better than his mom’s, because she has more money. To a bright just-over-eleven-year-old, the arithmetic is as simple as that, and has been for a number of years. Poor is bad. Rich is good.

 

Jake smiled. “Yeah. Money would have possibly solved my problems – but she wasn’t the right woman, or she’d have stuck by me, tried something new with me.”

 

“So what happened?” The lock clicks and Neal holds it up triumphantly.

 

“Too slow by five minutes thirty seconds. Lock it, do it again!”

 

“I undid it.”

 

“You were Houdini, you’d be drowned dead in those five minutes. You try holding your breath for five minutes while undoing chains and locks, kid! How long can you hold your breath?”

 

Neal blinks. He’s never tried.

 

“Not five minutes, I’ll betcha!

         “Anyway, I thought money would solve my problems with Rita, so I talked to Sammy, the cat man…no, don’t look like that – he trained the big cats. He always had money. He stole stuff. So we did a job together. And then another and another…and the fourth, unfortunately, it didn’t go so well and we got busted and since the show moved from one state to another – that makes it Federal.” He said it like it was important, so Neal opened his eyes wide in sympathy, waiting to find out more. “Federal penitentiary. I was lucky, I guess – first time offender, the haul was smallish. Got out after three years of a five year sentence. And no guns – never carry a gun, unless your life is in danger, kid! I’d have still been there!”

 

“And Rita?”

 

“ _What_ Rita? Jake sneers. The lock clicks. “Much better, kid! Boy, you are a quick learner! Try this one!”

 

“Was jail horrible?”

 

“Prison – but yes and no. Some of the guards were monsters, really, only a little worse than some of the worst criminals. But most were okay, criminals and cops, just surviving, you know. I learnt a lot!”

 

“But it scared you from doing more crimes.”

 

“The _committing_ scared me. I liked the money. Hard to make decent money legally.

.........“Here I’m okay, got my board and lodging paid for, you know, don’t have a girl or a business to try and maintain, just do the little jobs for the tenants, many are kind, bake me cakes and stuff if I get their faucets fixed quickly, you know, whatever. I was never cut out for a life of crime, kid. Scared me. Used to sweat like a pig!”

 

“But you could get a job that pays more, now?”

 

“Once a felon, always a felon, kid. I probably never commit another crime, but I’ll always be a criminal. Most folks won’t give me a job at all, some will let me at a bucket and mop and a janitorial uniform. Mrs Tabernacle, you know, that owns these two buildings, she gave me a chance ten years ago. I am so grateful to her, nice lady – that’s why no jumping off this roof and making trouble for me – or her. If you want to jump, find some other roof – preferably higher. You don’t want to just break a leg or somethin’, you know?”

 

“You’ve been here ten years?”

“Be here another twenty, probably. With luck. Of course, Mrs Tabernacle could pass away, you know, she ain’t no spring chicken!”

 

“Life’s not very nice, is it, Jake?”

 

“Some people get it nice! Mrs Tabernacle, her husband made money, she comes from money. You should see the clothes she wears! And she pays me more because she can, you know, than some other owners.”

 

“So having money is much better than not. But you have to get it.”

 

“Yeah. And if you are stupid enough to do what I did, don’t get caught!” Jake laughs, and coughs. He smokes outside on the roof, which is why he’s been there often enough to notice Neal’s comings and goings.

 

“I won’t!” Neal says it as a joke. But there is no way he is going to ‘get it nice’. And he is well-aware he isn’t stupid.

 

“So – that was even better. Do all these ten locks again under thirty seconds each!”

 

When Neal can do that easily, and grins, flushed with victory, Jake shrugs. “No more locks for you, kid. Want to learn some card tricks? Good for the ladies!”

 

With his mom, Ellen and Jake held up constantly as a reminder that freedom was better, rich was better, choices were better, Neal never stops learning and practising. He finds that his breath-holding abilities are poor, and spends time in the pool every time he goes swimming, diving underwater, staying underwater, timing himself with the large clock on the wall.

 

He starts to steal. He doesn’t recognise the irony, but he steals locks. He practises on them all until he can manage them in under thirty seconds. Jake, not without misgivings, shows him how to pick pockets as part of some tricks. He lifts hand-cuffs from a cop to practise on. He practises all the magic tricks Jake can teach him, enjoying the praise from the older man who is the most honest person he knows.

 

After about six months, he says, quietly, as he sits practising palming larger and larger articles, “You’re good with secrets, Jake?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“Promise. I won’t jump off your roof if you keep my secret?”

 

“Yeah. Promise.”

 

“My real name is Neal.”

 

“Hi, Neal.”

 

 

 

Neal grows. He works hard at everything he does, he researches at the library, online, preferring books but weighing up facts from everywhere. He wants to be strong, not bulky (rather take the opponent by surprise) but strong and with endurance – strong is better than weak, healthy is better than sick, rich is better than poor, choices better than a tiny, alcohol-fume-drenched dark apartment with a single bed. It seems very simple.

 

He starts running – at school, round the apartment buildings, back and forth to the library, but taking different routes. He knows which dumpsters contain good things, often working lamps, toasters, what have you – even good food. He fixes and sells things to make money. Jake shows him how to fix things, how to understand how they work. He saves every bit of the money.

 

And he finds a gun.

 

He’s looking for something he can sell, and a black, shiny thing catches his eye. He hides it in the basement behind a loose piece of concrete, and goes to the library and researches guns – revolvers, in this case. Then he learns to strip it. He works at that, stripping and reassembling, just as he had with the locks. It's an exciting secret. It's something only he knows, and it somehow links him to his dad.

 

He realises that, despite the fact that he is not naturally good with computers, they will be a bigger part of the future. He works with them, plays with them. He learns to forge ID’s From one enterprising budding criminal who is moving at the end of the school year and sells him his business for fifty dollars. Now he can really start to make some money. He goes online and finds out more information about forging, how printing is done, the history of it. He sucks it up like a sponge. Even information that seems out-dated or irrelevant, he loves it. He doesn’t say it, or even think it, but it makes him feel he is part of history. Part of something bigger, somewhere to belong.

 

 

Funny how things shape our lives. Neal is sweet on a girl. He is thirteen, and so is she. As with everything in his life, he researches her. She wears a silver chain round her neck with a crab pendant. He asks about it and she tells him she is a Cancer. He looks horrified till she explains it is her star-sign (which doesn’t sound any better to Neal!) She asks him his birth-date and he gives her Danny’s.

         “You’re an Aries! Go at everything, brave, strong. Impetuous, sometimes selfish.”

 

Neal looks up astrology and becomes quite interested. He asks people’s signs – like Jake’s. Jake is a Virgo. Yeah, not good for a criminal. Detail and service oriented. Practical. But some people’s don’t fit at all – like Ellen’s. Gemini? No. Nor his mother – Libra. Obviously, there are things he isn’t taking into account. Then he remembers…Danny was an Aries – but Neal? He isn’t sure of his original birthday. He just remembers his parents’ excitement, the cakes and candies and pretty paper. It seems a million years ago. He wishes he could have a time machine. Go back. Just keep going back.

 

It seems tragic to him that he doesn’t know his own birthday and cannot find out.

 

He reads the astrology books. He looks at the star charts. It is all very interesting, especially reading that people like Newton, the genius calculus guy, studied it very seriously. He wants to find out why things work the way they do. Perhaps there are answers to why his life had disintegrated. He stares at the chart of various famous people, and realises that he could be staring at his own chart, and never know.

 

_He’s good with money because Jupiter is in his Fifth House? He’s lucky? That’d be good. But all my life is pretend. Including my so-called stupid astrological chart! I have no idea. Mom might tell me, if I tell her I’ll keep a secret. Probably not. But hey – if the Law can make up my star-chart so it doesn’t fit, why can’t I make up one that does!_

He studies the books some more and creates a star-chart that gives him all the good fortune and all the health and all the money – everything he can cram into one chart! He doesn’t bother to work out if there is a birthdate that fits this side of the fifth millennium! That would spoil it! He also doesn’t show the girl who started all this. She’s dating a mindless boy two years older than Neal, anyway. But she’d taught him something, all unwittingly:

 

_Decide who you want to be. If you’re going to live a lie, if you’re going to pretend, pretend something perfect!_

_Everyone lies. Everyone pretends. Pretend something worthwhile!_

Neal doesn’t enjoy going to see his mother. She is often so drunk she hardly recognises him. He feels horrible guilty that he would prefer not to see her, not to try and talk to her, not say “I love you, Mom.” He has comes to terms with the pretend, the lies, the make-believe. But that particular lie feels all wrong. He has resentment against her and pity for her; he tells her he loves her. He hates that lie. But he makes himself go once every two weeks. Once every week if he can, but at the least once every two weeks.

 

This time it’s after football practice. He had to shower, change. It’s already getting dark. He doesn’t like the dark in the city, much. No stars. And he’s old enough to know about more things now. Bad things happening to innocent people.

 

_It’s not just me. Life is dreadful for a lot of people.  
_

He makes himself hurry. He tries not to think of reasons not to go, reasons to leave soon, but they come automatically.

 

_Ellen says she’s making dinner early._

_I’ve got a lot of schoolwork to finish._

_I need to get to the library before it closes._

He often thinks his mother is as pleased to see the back of him as he is to leave. She feels ashamed. Secrets are terrible things.

In the event, he’s not going to need those excuses tonight. Or any night. He gets to her apartment, and the door is standing open. That isn’t an unknown occurrence. But when he looks in, she’s dead. Oh, she’s posed just as she has been on other drunken occasions, lying flat on the floor, a bottle near her hand, as though she’s fallen, unconscious, off the chair. But as he stands there, two things stand out – scratch-marks on the door-lock right near his hand that _he_ would never make, and the small spot of red on her forehead. And then he can hear the breathing.

 

He tastes bile. But he knows he’s in danger and now’s the time to pretend.

 

He sighs, loudly enough for the man to hear. Now he can smell tobacco. The man smokes.          

.........Neal says, under his breath, “Oh, blast! Stupid woman hasn’t done our laundry, that’s for sure! Look at her! Better tell ma!” and he turns and walks quickly, but not too quickly, from the doorway, gritting his teeth so he doesn’t look back, doesn’t run – he clatters down the stair-case and _then_ he runs…he runs all the way to Ellen’s, it’s not far, and gets the revolver and runs all the way back, hiding it in his coat pocket.

 

He feels an anger coiling inside him, the anger he’s always suppressed, fury that anyone’s life should be so easily snuffed out, fury made all the more powerful because he really never wanted to see his mother again. Fury at his dad, at his mom, at Work, at the Law, at Vince…He jogs along the parked cars, feeling each hood as he passes. They’re all cold.

 

He’s more careful in the parking lot of the apartment. The man could have seen him through the crack the hinges leave – he himself had carefully _not_ looked at it. He finds only two cars that have hoods that feel warm, and one is an old Toyota, blue – he knows who owns this. He checks the plate – yeah, Royce family. Mr Royce joked with him that it wasn’t a Rolls.

 

He tries the other warm car’s door – the driver’s side is unlocked. _Quick getaway, I guess!_ There are cigarette butts in the ashtray, the car stinks. He climbs in the back, picks up a travelling rug that is folded there and waits, hoping the man is alone, or he will probably soon be as dead as his mother.

 

_So what!_

He hears footsteps and sneaks a peek over the back. Yeah, single man, walking this way. He makes sure the safety’s off. He’s wearing gloves, so he has to be careful. He can’t feel as easily as if they’re off, but he doesn’t want to leave fingerprints. He’s always wiped the inside of the gun, feeling like a movie gangster! It’s always been exciting.

 

This isn’t exciting. This is petrifying, dreadful. He’s sweating in fear and feels a sudden stab of sympathy for Jake. But Something has destroyed his life, piece by piece. _Enough!_ He can do one thing to stop one evil man. He doesn’t use the words, hasn’t discovered the concept, but he is through being a victim. Or he thinks he is.

 

The man gets in the car, opens the glove compartment and puts something in it.

 

_Probably his gun. I can smell it – like Dad’s gun. It’s the gun!_

Tears smart in his eyes. His _dad_ should be protecting the family, but his dad isn’t here. Only Neal is here. Neal wants to chicken out, he really wants to, but it’s more dangerous now to back out than to go ahead. It’s hard to know what to do. It’s hard to know right from wrong. He studies the shape of the man as he fiddles with his car keys, just as he studied photographs to draw, or even people walking on the street. He knows more or less where the heart is, from anatomical drawings in books. The murderer starts the engine, sighs as he turns up the heating. Lights a cigarette, breathes in. Neal smells the same tobacco.

Neal judges, holds the gun with the blanket covering his arms, folds of it between the gun and the back of the seat, holding it taught with his knees, says clearly, “You shouldn’t have killed my mother,” and pulls the trigger.

 

The noise, even somewhat muffled, is terrible and terrifying. The man jerks, gasps, folds forward – his breath is rasping, and Neal has over-reached his courage. He struggles to open the back door, and he almost falls out and he runs, taking the revolver with him. He continues running, as fast as he can, in the direction that takes him away from Ellen’s and the school, and the library. He runs ten blocks and throws the gun into a hedge around an apartment building. Then he turns and runs again, as quietly as he can, a long route round to the library. He collects an armful of books, trying desperately to make his breathing behave, and walks swiftly back to Ellen’s.

 

His quick mind is frantically trying to think of things he did wrong. Someone – anyone – might have seen him at his mother’s apartment building. Someone could have heard the shot and looked out. Or him running somewhere. Away, or to the library. No-one’s likely to find the gun for a while…

 

Ellen never plans on him having supper at his mother’s, so there’s always food, and if he can get home with an armful of books… he goes up the stairs and opens the door – Ellen isn’t there.

 

He breaths a huge sigh of relief. But immediately on the sigh comes the realisation that security here is a sham. He knows now that Ellen, when she was Kathryn, was a cop. His dad’s partner. He gets a glass of water and thinks carefully.

 

_Gunshot residue – blanket hopefully took care of that. But what if it didn’t? Should get rid of the jacket._

 

Lots of people at school have them, so he can just ditch it and take someone else’s…but for now?

_Put it in the washer. The gloves, likewise._

 

He goes downstairs and to the next apartment building, on the watch. Everything seems still. He goes into the laundry and starts a wash, surprised at how his hands are shaking. He throws in bleach and washing powder. He’s thinking a mile a minute.

 

_Should check what gets rid of gunshot residue! Stupid to worry now. Do what I can._

He moves more confidently through the shadows and makes it back to the apartment moments before Ellen comes in, looking exhausted. He has started coffee and pours her a mug and she sits.

         “That looks like a lot of work,” Ellen says, waving the half-empty mug at the pile of books.

 

“Yeah, school assignment I’m trying to get a jump on,” he says, and marvels at his voice. It’s calm and cool. _Wow. Pays to practise lying. Been doing it since I was three…good training for murdering someone …executing someone. He’d already murdered my mom. How weird it all sounds to think it like that…!_

 

“You work too hard!”

 

“Oh, look who’s talking! I’m going to make supper – you take a nap on the couch, Ellen.”

 

“I won’t argue with you.”

 

“I should go and see Mom tomorrow,” he lies, getting a pot and pan from the shelf. “It’s been about fifteen days.” He sighs.

 

“I know it’s difficult, Danny. It doesn’t get any easier.”

 

“There are programmes, Ellen. Couldn’t we get her into one?” It’s the nearest he’s come to naming the secret, even to Ellen. Perhaps because that’s a secret that doesn’t need to be kept, any more.

 

“Oh, Danny, she needs to want to change. We can’t force her. And they cost money.”

 

“Yeah. Remind me never to be a hero or a cop. Dad dying messed us all up.”

 

But Ellen is asleep. Which gives Neal a chance to wash his own hands with bleach, and then lots of soap and water, and lemon juice, then ammonia – and then soap and water again - just in case it might help, before he does dinner.

 

The next day is so normal that Neal wonders if everything had been a dream! Or a nightmare! It’s only when he gets home that Ellen sits him down and explains that someone shot his mother, that she’s dead. He’s prepared for this: his eyes go big, and his hand shakes. “Mom? Someone shot Mom? Who?”

 

“Yes, when you were still at school, probably. I’m so sorry, Danny.”

 

“Why? She didn’t have anything worth stealing!” His eyes fill with easy tears: not for the woman he’d been dreading seeing, but for the sweet-faced mother he only just remembers. Before his father died. The sweet woman and everything they’d both lost.

 

“That’s the problem. I’m sorry - ” She doesn’t get any further because he’s sobbing. He hasn’t had a chance, hasn’t dared, but everything is too much for him. He’s only a boy and his father’s gone, his life is gone, his mother – who in many ways left nearly a decade before – is now irrevocably dead. Ellen holds him and comforts him. Then she takes him down to the police station.

 

He’s shaking with grief and reaction, and they only briefly ask him where he was at a time he knows is likely an hour before he shot the man, who wouldn’t have been standing in the apartment for an hour, surely! – and when he last saw his mother and how she seemed. At this he clams up, not wanting to share the secret, even now. Ellen explains, and he nods, tearfully. The policewoman is kind and then there are U.S. Marshals there, and Ellen waves them away and takes him into a small room. Later, he will realise it’s an interrogation room. First time for everything!

 

“I have to tell you something, Danny. About your father. I’m sorry, we had to keep this a secret, this may be the only time I can tell you.”

 

She sits and tells him the tale. That his dad hadn’t been a hero. That he’d been a dirty cop, involved with other dirty cops, a lot of them. That he’d shot another cop and the reason they’d moved when he was small was because they were being protected by WitSec.

 

 _Of course!_ Neal thinks, sniffing sadly. _But…? Wait a minute…?_

“I’m sorry to have to tell you the truth now, with all this going on – but they think it might have been the same cops, the bad cops that WitSec was protecting us from, who got your mother last night. For our own safety, we have to move again. Become different people.”

 

He stares at her through the tears that continue to well in his eyes. More lies and pretence – on top of pretending that he hasn’t killed a man, that he doesn’t know what the recoil of the revolver feels like, the smell, that he’d loved so much on his father’s gun, of oil and gunpowder, like beautiful fireworks.

 

“I’ll make them put us together, Sweetheart,” Ellen tells him. “You haven’t any parents, and I’ve been like one for years to you.”

 

“Thank you for telling me,” he says, slowly. But his mind, though somewhat overwhelmed and confused by emotion, isn’t dead, and he looks at her more keenly. She is saying his dad is still alive, but a criminal, on the run. She hadn’t said she believed his dad was guilty. In fact, she said she’d been investigating, and was still, that she’d been working with her father to prove him innocent. She just said he’d _confessed._ What did that mean? People don’t usually confess if they’re innocent, unless they want to protect people.

_Dad would have done anything to protect me, Mom - and from what she’s said, Ellen. Don’t know of anyone else. And if it isn’t Ellen, surely she’s wondered…? Perhaps she thinks I’m still too young – hey! Perhaps Dad was having an affair with someone involved and was protecting them. Some stranger – or Ellen. Mom wouldn’t have gone off with a gun and shot a stranger. (Like **I** just did! No-one is considering me as a suspect.) No, not Mom. Ellen – or a stranger._

“We have to go, Danny. They’ll have new identities for us, a place for us to go.”

 

“B-but, all my friends – I have to say good-bye - ” Neal is thinking about Jake. Only Jake.

 

“No. We’re going. Right now. We have time to pick up a few things from home, and go right away.”

 

Neal doesn’t take much notice of where they’re going, his new name, the new school…he’s had enough.

 

_I’m not living with someone else’s lies, any more! Time to live by my own lies!_

As it happens, they end up in Florida. Many of their clothes are new, department store stuff. They have a nicer place, and it’s warmer, of course. It’s within biking distance of the beach and somehow they have bikes. Since school will be ending within a month for the Christmas break, Neal doesn’t go to school. Most days he goes to the beach and swims and runs, letting the water and the wind wash away all his anger, his sorrow. He thinks often of the man in the car. That’s how he’ll always think of him: The Man in the Car. It’s almost a dream, now, becoming unreal.

 

_Probably different if you see their eyes, see them fall, see the blood. Just a shadow in a car, strange breathing. Perhaps I just have no soul. I can’t feel any real guilt for killing a shadow-man who killed my mother – and perhaps framed my father. If that makes me bad, well – like father like son._

But he remembers the blue eyes, the lovely smile, the kind man who played ball with him and loved him.

 

_Nicer man than I am. I doubt he’s guilty. I don’t like the fact that I killed a man, but I am not unhappy I executed my mother’s killer. I’ll probably stay away from guns. Too easy. Any stupid person can kill, especially with a gun. My poor mom…_

 

But he doesn’t regret the fact that she’s not in his life any more.

Neal plans and saves money from his larger allowance. He waits till New Year is over, writes a short, anonymous note to Ellen, packs a haversack and leaves, on foot, heading north. He shovels snow for little old ladies (most of whom invite him in and feed him). Sometimes he stays the night on the couch. They’re sorry for a boy who wants so much to see his ailing mother (brother just back from active service, sister in hospital delivering her first baby) that he’s prepared to make his way on foot to North Carolina (New Jersey, Boston, Maine) and, if he finds any coins lying around, he takes them. He leaves the folding stuff. And all of them wear nice dresses and have nicely kept cars, so he doesn’t feel bad.

 

He reaches New York, steals a computer (and various other things) from a big box store, and settles down in an abandoned office building. He re-routes the heating vents from the offices right next door so he’s comfortable. He has everything hidden in locked crates when he goes out. He starts making money forging ID’s and driver’s licences and other things. Using forged ID, he gets a library card. He’s all set.

 

He has to move around, of course. And he’s become an expert on people, society, human interactions. He picks pockets and gets better. If someone turns, if there’s any reaction, he drops the item on his heel so there’s no noise and moves to a new location. He buys hats, hooded garments and gloves. He breaks into empty apartments and lives well, better than he and his mother ever did. He visits museums and art galleries and exhibits. Some of them are free. He realises that his clothing is wrong for some venues, and finds better stuff. Some at high-end thrift stores. Some at dry-cleaners.

         He studies other men at functions, and learns to walk with that swagger, or just that confidence that his dad had.

He learns to change his appearance so that he looks five years older – or a few years younger. It helps that he has sharp features and hair that he can change easily.

He takes a janitor’s uniform and walks round the one gallery at night. He even cleans the floors and dusts, between enjoying the artwork. He’s amazed because in the newspaper and at the library they often highlight one of the paintings, something of great value. He can’t help wishing he could paint. Some of these paintings are worth millions and honestly, they don’t look as though a great deal of skill has gone into them! (He only realises later he’d need to be a good artist _and_ well known _and_ preferably dead.)

He’s at home in New York now and can blend in easily to any stratum of society. He can be anyone from a homeless person to a rich, young jerk with too much money and too much attitude and too much time on his hands! He enjoys all of it. For the first time, he’s really having fun. He’s lonely, but there’s always learning.

 

From his fake ID ‘business contacts’, he finds a man who does beautiful ID’s that make his look like cereal-box Sheriffs’ badges, and he carefully approaches him. He’s an older man – old, really! - and Neal almost literally falls at his feet and begs to be his apprentice in return for tuition. The man is amused and sarcastic, till Neal talks him through a colour selection for an ancient map he’s working on. Then he looks deep into those charming blue eyes, looks past the hesitant, white grin and sees the intense and sparkling brilliance waiting to be unleashed.

 

Over the next period of time Steve (not his real name) and Dude (not Neal’s real name, but that’s what Steve calls him, and he doesn’t care) make thousands of fake picture ID’s, maps, old and rare bank notes, invitations, sports tickets, Invalid Parking Permits, stamps, Diplomas and Certificates: pretty much everything that can be printed and forged, they forge. Neal finds he's good at calligraphy, he has a great eye for colour.They have fun. They laugh together. They make money. A lot of money. Most of it goes to Steve, but he shares with Neal. And to Neal, the experience, the knowledge, the confidence is priceless.

 

When, after a long and intensive apprenticeship, Neal wants to try and forge the beautiful Atlantic Incorporated bond, which Steve tells him he just wants to forge because it has never been done successfully and never would, ‘Dude’ talks Steve around into letting him use all the equipment.

         “Look, Steve, I’ve been pretty useful to you, haven’t I? We’ve made a lot of money, haven’t we?”

 

“Yeah, yeah, Dude, that we have.”

 

“Steve, listen – have we made more money together than you would have made on your own?”

 

“Yeah, we have, Dude.”

 

“More than my expenses, food, clothing?”

 

“Yeah, much, much more.”

 

“So let me just try this. What have you got to lose? Bit of run-time, inks, stuff like that? Wouldn’t you like to think that _your protégé_ had forged the unforgeable Atlantic? Come on! I’ll give you one to hang on your wall, make you feel all millionaire-ish!”

 

Steve isn’t altogether sure he knows what a protégé is, and if Dude is ribbing him, but he acquiesces. It’s a lot of work. It takes months of research and trial and error. Neal is meticulous with the details. Good, very good are not good enough. Then it takes Neal quite a bit of fiddling and eye-balling the colour overlays, but when he is done, Steve feels tears come to his eyes. His boy! The work is outstanding. Precise, perfect.

 

When he is done, Neal, as promised, gives Steve one of his bonds, framed in a nice little plain frame, and asks him not to take it to the bank any time soon. Then he packs his things.

 

Steve wants to cry. He’s become very fond of Dude and they’d made a lot of money, but what can he do – shackle the kid? He opens a bottle of plonk and gets thoroughly wasted. Neal finds him, covers him gently with a blanket, frowns a little to himself and leaves. He sighs as he walks away.

 

It’s time to move on, though he is very fond of Steve. But he’s learned all that Steve can teach him and made him a great deal of money in return. Time to learn new things. Doesn’t do to stay in one place. Doesn't do to become dependent on anyone, trust anyone. Move on.

 

 

Neal loves the energy of New York, loves the architecture, the bustle. No-one cares who he is or what he does or what his name is! They’re all busy on errands of their own.

 

He ends up at Madison Square Park and meets a man who is a little older and a little shorter than he is and takes him for five thousand dollars, out-cheating the cheater at three card Monte. He smiles to himself as he shifts through the crowd like a breeze through trees.

But the other man is too quick for him. And then, because the shorter man is even brighter, perhaps, than Neal himself, and certainly has a great deal more experience, he elects to become Neal’s next mentor. The first person since he was three that Neal can really trust, though it takes him a long while to acknowledge that, always expecting the worst. His life has been like that.

 

 

 

 

 

End of Chapter 35

Sorry it's been so long a-coming. Life, you know! Please therefore be kind and excuse (but let me know so I can correct) tense errors (hard to stay in present tense!!!) and typos, etc!

It was either post this or post a much longer chapter, later. Will try and get the next bit up in relatively good time.

 

 


	36. Trust for Trust

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Turn about is fair play

 

 

 

 

Caerrovon is lying in the cradle, gently rocked by his nurse’s foot.

He is happy. His mother is sewing something soft for him, leaning over and speaking to him. There is a fire nearby and he can hear the crackling of it as he has since before he was born.

 

He is a little aware of his mother’s thoughts, very aware of her feelings. She is so pleased to have him, her first child! She hopes he is the first of a large family!

 

His father comes in with a gift for his mother, and she thanks him and tells him to look at Caerrovon, how beautiful, how aware for a baby his age. He father leans over and peers in, but does not touch him. He knows his father is a little uncomfortable with him, but has high hopes for this baby-heir. He is thinking of all the things they will do together as the boy grows!

 

 

Caerrovon and his father are outside. The wind is cold, but his mother has bundled him up against it. His nose is still cold, though! His father has him up on his stallion, his feet stuck almost straight out on the broad back! The huge horse has turned his head to look at the baby, whiffling near his foot to catch his smell.

 

“Smell him, Wingfleet! Your get litter our fields, strong and healthy – this is my first colt, and I am as elated with him as you are of your progeny!” Then the proud Lord, shadowed by a very young and just as proud Brak – beardless at this time – leads the horse, who is trained in every equine drill known to horsemen on this planet, and who also knows a baby of any species when he smells it. He is quiet and his gait is as smooth as possible.

         Caerrovon is not quite sure whether his father is prouder of him, unafraid so far off the ground (and perhaps his father knows not that _he_ knows Brak has hold of the back of his coat and fall he can not!) or of his well-schooled horse!

 

Caerrovon loves, admires and honours his father, but his heart is given early to his beautiful, gentle, rather frail mother. They spend more time together than the Lord likes, saying the boy is being cosseted. In truth, and they both know it, is that it is the child who attempts to cherish his mother. They can sit and commune silently, which the Lord finds disquieting. He fears that his child takes too much after his Laffay mother and has not enough of the Steel focus. But the baby is young, yet, it is not time for him to be weaned from the women’s skirts, and his presence makes his mother happy!

 

 

 

 

Caerrovon must sneak time to be with his mother. There are so many things a growing heir must learn! His father has such high standards for him, and does not wish him to be soft and coddled, always with his mother and her women, even though he is so young. His father does not realise the depth of the bond between the two, does not realise that her time with them will be very short.

 

They hardly need to speak, the two Laffays. But he loves to hear her soft voice.

         “You must not tell your father,” she says. “I will, but not yet. He will fuss, so! The Steels are men of action, strong, practical men. They have little concept of death other than to fight it as a terrible enemy.”

         Caerrovon understands the images in her heart more than the words: indeed, this is how he has learned most of his words! “Mother,” he asks, softly, “what will happen when you go?”

 

She strokes the soft, heavy, fair hair off his forehead and says, “I shall go on to a lovely place, dearest. You need never worry for me, you know – and you will join me there, one day when you are very much older than you are. See my sister you can not?”

 

Caerrovon shakes his head, feeling as though he is a disappointment to her.

 

“No, little Caerrovon,” and his name on her lips is like a melody of love, “it is not your fault. I am full Laffay, child! I can hear her and see her – and she is sad, too, for she left her little son so early! But death itself is nothing – poof! As walking through this door.”

 

“But I shall see you no longer.”

 

“I know. But, baby boy, if I walk out of this room see me you can not, but you know I am just on the other side of the wall. Is that so terrible?”

 

Caerrovon smiles sadly. “Yes – and no. If you are in the next room I cannot feel your arms about me, Mother.”

 

“Perhaps you will, if I am not in the next room but merely invisible to your Steel Keep eyes! You will know I am here and that I love you. You do know that I am telling you the truth.”

 

“Yes, Mother and sad I will try not to be, if you are going to be happy.”

 

“It will seem a longer time to you, I believe, than to me, before you come to join me, but it will not be very long, Caerrovon. You are strong, you have a wonderful little Keep here. You have kin at all the Keeps, especially Betchem, and Laffaysham of course. Your father loves you. ”

 

“He is a little…like us he is not, Mother.”

 

“He loves you. He is not Laffay, but Steel and double Steel! Showing emotion is difficult for him, darling, except anger sometimes. He feels if he shows anything softer it is a sign of weakness. Do not think he does not feel, however.”

 

 

 

Between learning to ride, learning to hold a small replica of his father’s long sword, learning to read, gaining control over his legs and arms, Caerrovon stays with her, sometimes creeping into her bed at night if he has not spent much time with her during the day. Ophera and Brak both know he does this, and say nothing to the Lord. The young child finds it difficult to believe that his father does not see her strength waning, the skin becoming fine, smooth and delicate as the thinnest flower-petal, letting her beauty shine through it even more than before. Her pale green eyes are huge in her face.

 

One day she calls them both to her side. Caerrovon gets to her first and holds her. She whispers, “Remember all our talks, Caerrovon. I am leaving, leaving my body behind, but I am not ceasing to be, remember? _Remember._ I must talk to your father, he is going to grieve, I am afraid, for he finds this peculiar and even frightening. But do not you be scared, little son. Rejoice for me, if you can, and wait for the time we may meet face-to-face again.

         “Be strong. Be strong for yourself, be strong also for your father. Now go, for I must speak to him. Take my love in your heart, Caerrovon, and nurture it there and share it with those who need loving.”

 

“I will, my dear mother,” Caerrovon says, determined not to cry.

 

_She just leaves and goes to another room._

 

His father strides into the room. “Not feeling well again, my dear?” he asks with rough sympathy.

        

Caerrovon leaves them together, sad for his father.

 

 

They stand side-by-side at the death-rites. It is the first time Caerrovon remembers a great gathering of people. He is tiny, but in full Steel colours, though not quite the formal Court Dress his father wears. Both have soft white scarves threaded through their knot and half-knot, a recognition that they are missing someone who has gone before them into the Beyond. Many of the people here, mostly strangers to Caerrovon, wear the same scarves, all embroidered with their Keep emblems.

 

Caerrovon is almost afraid of his father, with his stony face, but before the rites started many of the strangers came and spoke softly to him, telling him that everything would be all right, that he was loved, that his mother loved him and still loves him. The weather is warm and after the long and tiring speeches, his mother’s body is laid in the ground, wrapped in her favourite blankets. She is gently covered and slaves plant bulbs of her favourite flowers in the still-loose soil.

 

Caerrovon is not distressed at this. It looks like his mother’s lovely body, but all of the energy is gone, like finding one of her beautiful dresses lying on the bed, he is reminded of her but it is not her. Part of him feels her still, and they spoke about this time so often.

 

Lord Steel is standing watching, silent and withdrawn. Lord and Lady Laffay come up behind Caerrovon and the Lord picks him up and they straighten his clothing that has become a little disordered by the breeze.

         “You do know, little son of Steel and Laffaysham, that the body they are honouring is not your mother? It was the carriage she travelled in, but now she flies free, like one of your beautiful horses freed from the traces, free to gallop over the grassland.”

 

Caerrovon knows that they are kin, of course, and he nods. “My mother explained to me. She is gone to another room, she is not here for me to touch, but she is not gone.”

 

“And she has left many of us, little Caerrovon, to hug you and look after you.”

 

Their eyes are sad, but they obviously care for him, and he bravely manages a smile.

 

There are flashes of memory Caerrovon has as he gets a little bigger, often with the Keep horses. In his early childhood a great deal of his growing is done underfoot at the stables. When the Lord needs him not Brak is designated to look after the child, and a bond soon develops between the canny slave and the baby heir, and also between the heir and Brak’s wife, a kitchen slave who often saves him little treats!

 

The Lord never was a jocular fellow, but since the death of his wife he is habitually solemn, even stern. It is not that Caerrovon fears him, or dislikes him, but finds that he is withdrawn and does not talk much, or put himself out to understand the boy. He drives himself hard and his slaves with him. He is given to flashes of temper.

 

Because of this, Brak and Ophera make a tacit decision, it seems to Caerrovon, to become his parents in truth if not in fact. The fumbling ways of a small child therefore irritate the Lord less than they otherwise might, his smiles and laughter do not interrupt the Lord’s thoughts.

They make sure the little boy gets his schoolwork and tasks done, they help him learn new things in conjunction with Leran and Klenalth and his other teachers. They treat him as their own and love him a great deal, especially as they are childless – and he remains an only child. The Lord makes no attempt to find a second wife, though he is young and it is accepted if a spouse dies early.

 

Caerrovon is normally happy and willing but he a small, perfectly healthy boy! He rides horses he is not allowed to do – and without mishap, he has inherited the Steel ability with the great beasts, along, perhaps with the Laffay sensitivity towards all animals. He goes exploring in the second dungeon where the water well is, something he has been told not to do. He steals small berry-pies from Ophera’s larder. Sometimes Brak and Ophera sit him down and explain what he has done wrong, and set him more tasks to do, but when he steals the pies and then denies the crime – all the while sporting a wonderfully sticky, bluish face – Brak spanks him.

         Caerrovon glowers for a full hour after his tears have dried, but then Brak says, “There are things that are not good for you to do, and lying to us is definitely on that list, Master Caerrovon. And instead of scowling at me, you should be thanking me that I told not your father, for he would have whipped you soundly, Master!”

 

Caerrovon blinks a few times and runs to Brak and hugs him. “I am sorry I was bad. I did take the pies.”

 

“Yes, little one, I know you did!”

 

“Thank you for not telling Father.”

 

“Tell him not yourself, Master Caerrovon!”

 

“No, I will keep it a secret. I think that is fair. You already spanked me.”

 

“I did.”

 

“But it was only partially my fault, Brak!”

 

“Oh? How is that, Master?”

 

“Ophera makes wonderful pies!”

 

Brak bites his lip soas not to grin. “She does that, Caerrovon. It is her speciality. The Lady of the Kitchen is pleased with her.”

 

“It is a temptation.”

 

“Shall I tell her not to, Master?”

 

“No-oo…perhaps tell me not about the pies till supper time?”

 

“As I recall, tell you we did not! You smelled them when you were doing your homework for school!”

 

Caerrovon thinks about this and sighs deeply.

 

 

 

Caerrovon grows a little taller. He is allowed to go on visits to Betchem and Camber, so long as Brak and a few other warriors accompany him. No-one is concerned for his safety, the repercussions of killing the child-heir to a Keep would be swift and terrible from all the combined Alliance Keeps and many others as well.

 

He is immediately included in the fun and nonsense of a large group of children his age and older. He meets Ethlan, and since they are amongst the youngest, and close kin, they team up against the bigger children. However, there is no bullying, though there is quite a bit of teasing! At first Caerrovon is confused by it all, being an only child, and the new young Lady Betchem explains things to him and warns the other children to be kind to him, he has no brothers or sisters. The children nod their acknowledgement. They do not like to annoy the Lord and Lady, who are easy-going, but will not tolerate any misbehaviour or meanness.

 

         “And no mother, like me!” Ethlan whispers to him.

 

Caerrovon is confused by this fact, too, as it has not occurred to him that his Father could remarry and he could have a new mother. But Lady Betchem seems very kind, and Ethlan loves her. When Caerrovon becomes infuriated at seeing his mother’s portrait in the gallery, and is stubbornly and vehemently arguing with the Lord, who is becoming just as loudly furious and ready to spank the little hot-head well for his pains, it is Lady Betchem who takes him away and sits him down and tries her best to explain. Lord Betchem is quite prepared to punish real badness in ways the children do not forget – and therefore seldom has to resort to doing so - but he also can see that Caerrovon is shouting loudly so that he does not cry, and gladly lets his young wife take Caerrovon away and try to calm him down. Despite his fury, Caerrovon knows this. Betchem is easy to read.

 

He is gratified that his instinct was correct when Lady Betchem brings Caerrovon, face newly washed, hair neatly combed, to him and Caerrovon apologises. “I am sorry, Lord Betchem, for my unruly behaviour. You had every right to be extremely angry with me. I did not understand, but Lady Betchem has kindly told me how the situation arose. If you need to punish me, I quite understand, Lord Betchem. I was not acting as an heir to the knot should act.”

 

The Lord gathers him into his arms and hugs him. “Your mother was a beautiful and kind woman. I loved her, I loved her sister, my wife at that time. I understand that you became angry because you were confused, I felt that. But, son, beware of such emotions. You are from Steel, you have a strong and fierce spirit. It is good for you to rein in your temper as you would train a wild horse, child. Practise that before you are a man, a warrior.

         “If you lose your temper, you will lose the fight.”

 

Caerrovon is thrilled that it has been so easy to please the large Lord of this lovely Keep; he feels the love the man has for him and he throws his arms round Lord Betchem’s neck and they laugh together.

 

He also remembers that his heritage is to become a warrior.

 

 

Caerrovon is a different type of person to his father. His father is always aloof from the slaves, and insists that Caerrovon keep his distance, too. But while at Steel Keep, the lad has no-one his age. The slaves in the Keep itself have few children and all are older than he is. There are a few out in the fields, but he does not get out there to play very often. He loves Brak and Ophera, he enjoys the company of wise, knowledgeable Klenalth and tough, wily Leran. So he compromises, and they play along. If his father is by, they all assume the semblance of stiff and formal servants, as soon as they are alone, he becomes as their son to be petted and admonished and trained as best they might.

 

Unfortunately, they are not always careful enough and his father paddles the little boy hard at times for disobeying him and being too familiar with the slaves and servants. The slaves dry his tears and are sorry for getting him into trouble. It does not change their behaviour, if anything it brings them all closer as they tell each other how brave he is and point out that he never attempts to get them into trouble. They learn to be more cautious.

 

Caerrovon understands not his father. He seems to be trying to tell his son to trust not his servants, his slaves – his family. But if they truly wanted to hurt the Steel Family there are so many ways they could do it, especially Brak and Ophera, who could feed him tainted food, or Leran, who could arrange an accident at the armoury, or Klenalth, who could doctor the tack so that his father would fall while riding! He thinks all this through and chooses to keep trusting his people, especially as his empathy tells him they care for him – and his father - and enjoy belonging to Steel.

 

Caerrovon loves not every one of his studies, good with all the weapons yet he is not, though he is developing a good eye with his knives and his wrists are strengthening, but his father rejoices to see him ride! He can ride any animal on the place, he seems fearless and joyful in their presence. There are a great many and some of them will not let the Lord remain on their backs! Lord Steel congratulates himself on having such a son, a real Steel of Steel Keep, but in fact the lad uses his Laffay gift easily as much as the Steel horse-sense!

He is too small to ride many of the larger horses by grip, so he learns balance. Though his father disdains the dancing lessons that take his son further than the basic requirements of a nobleman to take part in social gatherings without embarrassment, they help Caerrovon listen to the breathing, the hoofbeats, every rhythm of his steed.

 

His father bows to the inevitable and puts Brak and Ophera in charge of his son. He knows he is hard on the child, he knows he has expectations that are appropriate for a grown man, not a boy. But inside, it is as though something died when his wife moved on. He loves Caerrovon, but the boy looks only a little like a child of Steel, enough so no-one could question their relationship, yet more, in the Lord’s eyes, like his mother. The resemblance brings his loss to mind and his affection is therefore more stilted and forced than it otherwise might have been,

 

 

When his son reaches the Age of Conscience, he takes him, as well as quite a large retinue, and goes to the House. He introduces his son to the Assembly as his heir, thereby announcing to the King and Keepers that he is well-pleased with Caerrovon and believes he will be a good Lord Keeper when the time comes. Caerrovon is introduced to the King and also the tedium of the House meetings! He is glad to return to Steel!

 

 

His father has presented him with his signet ring and tells him to go to the market and pick out a slave, preferably not too much older than he is, if one seems to suit. Lord Steel wishes to have his man back, and hopes that Caerrovon will visit the market a few times and find a good replacement!

 

Brak and Caerrovon get to the local Slave Market, unaware how often they will do so together over the decades of seasons to come. Steel has lived with slaves all his life, of course. He understands the concept that his father owns them. It is similar to the horses. The slaves and horses are treated like family. Steel Keepers have a great fondness for their horses! Everyone in the Keep is fed well, cared for and given treatment if they are ill. It is a working society and everyone seems happy most of the time, human and horse both.                                             

Every now and then an argument or dispute arises that is brought to Lord Steel, or even Caerrovon if the matter is petty. Some of the slaves have been freed, yet choose to remain. They wear their collars or not, as they wish. To Caerrovon, it is like a family - of course, it is the only family he has ever known – this and the similar households at Betchem, Camber and Laffaysham. Caerrovon has visited the town of Steel, and those at Betchem and Camber, too. He knows the freemen businessmen, the freemen tenants on all of the Keep lands. He does not really think about it, he is used to it, the background to his life.

 

The Lord Keeper families in all the Keeps he knows are aware of their status. They are free, and landed nobility and thus responsible for the Keep and the land and everyone who lives there, bond and free. They are also part of the essential non-centralised government. This is not a career, they are not paid. To neglect any of these hereditary duties would be unthinkable to any of the Lord Keepers and their families. His father feels this more keenly even than some of the others, and insists the slaves abide by his exacting rules.

         This is usually only a problem if he purchases a new slave, and that only if the slave is from a Keep with far different ways of doing things. Otherwise, his household is used to the Lord and his ways, though the younger members – even his very young son – find him lacking in humour or, that other word for it, perspective. Certainly, he seems less than delighted even when all the rules are fulfilled, and angered out of all proportion when they are even bent a little. But most of those rules and regulations are the simple humanity of one person to another within his Keep and within business. Caerrovon also knows these things without ever having heard them recited.

 

 

Therefore, when he visits the Slave Market for the first time he is utterly and completely aghast.

 

The stink, dirt and the fear, horror and misery he feels with his Laffay empathy all to clearly, the dreadful conditions in which the slaves are kept…he wants to turn and run, leap back on his horse and ride as fast as he can back to his Keep.

         But that is not what heirs of Steel do. He keeps his expression impassive and walks between the Floors. The first lines have slaves so badly treated that some seem almost asleep or comatose, some may have broken bones from the look of them, all are dirty and shackled. The Slave Hounds whip at them half-heartedly, trying to show that the merchandise can still move. There is only one Slaver for many slaves.

         Brak, who knows his charge only too well, has been dreading this moment. He even tried to warn Caerrovon, but the concepts were far beyond the boy’s experience. He watches as Caerrovon becomes a Steel in that hour.

         “This is disgusting, Brak!” Caerrovon states under his breath. “Why do they not stop it? These are slaves – _people!_ They treat them as worthless lumps of meat!”

 

Brak sighed. “I tried to tell you, Master.”

 

“You had not the words to tell, nor I the words to hear – and I think more highly of us for these defects!”

 

“Let us hurry through, Master. We can always tell your father that there was no-one here that suited.”

 

“I wish,” Caerrovon swears passionately beneath his breath, “that I could buy every one of them and take them home, Brak!”

 

“You father would be most displeased, Master.”

 

“Oh, what of that!”

 

“Master,” Brak says, becoming alarmed, “you would definitely not wish to face him with any disobedience on your conscience, let alone one of such magnitude _and_ , though I hesitate to tell you this, if you bought out the Floors every day for a fifty-day, on the next day they would be as full.”

 

Caerrovon turns and gazes at Brak in horror. “Why does my father – the other Lord Keepers – do nothing?”

 

“It is necessary to bring new slaves to market, Master.”

 

“Rubbish!” his charge says, tossing his head like a high-bred colt. “Come now with me to the Bovine or Horse Market! If my father saw one horse kept as these people are kept, he would buy every horse, kill everyone responsible from stable slaves to Market owners,” he hesitated, not sure of the hierarchy of ownership of the Stock Markets, “and burn the place to the dirt beneath!”

 

Brak nods. “It is true. But there are not limitless numbers of horses brought to market, and it seems as though human merchandise is unending.”

 

Caerrovon turns Brak round and stares up into his eyes with a penetrating stare that Brak finds hard to meet, even from a boy as young as the heir, having both the fierceness of a Steel and the dredging acuity of a Laffay. “Have you ever been sold, Brak? Have you – or dear Ophera - ever felt as these poor wretches feel?”

 

Brak takes his arm. “Master, no! We were born in slavery, at Steel. We have been cared for and treated well all our lives!”

 

“You have never been whipped or beaten as I see all of these have been?”

 

Brak shakes his head. “There has been the odd occasion a slave has been whipped by your Lord for egregious behaviour, Master, but as children we were trained to treat others well. You know yourself that as children we are trained, as are you, and we understand why we are to behave with sensitivity towards other slaves.”

 

Caerrovon seems to take some relief from this, but asks, “What can we do to change this?”

 

“When you are Lord Keeper, Master, you can try and make changes in the laws.”

 

“That is many tens of winters away! How many men, women and children will have suffered through those times?”

 

“Master, you are a boy – a boy under his father’s tutelage. I fear there is little you can do as yet.”

 

“Well, let us look at the slaves. We may at least be able to give a home to one man here.”

 

“Do not pick in haste, Master. As I have explained, there will be another crowd of slaves tomorrow and another the next day. You are saving one – save one that you will be pleased to have in my place, someone responsible and trustworthy. And come away from this Fresh Meat. Your father would be angry with me if you bought any but a trained slave.”

 

“I am sure if I can train a horse, I can train a man! I am sure they are fully intelligent!” But as he looked at the specimens before him, Caerrovon despairs. Some seem even unaware of his existence.

“I will change this!” he hisses under his breath, and Brak groans a little. He has lived and served at Steel for too long to miss a Steel vow, even though the boy is only half-grown.

 

They walk the Floors further. Brak trying his best to at least reach the Floors near the exit, where good, trained slaves, those who fetched the highest price and were worth it, are displayed. They reach the exit, and though there are a good grouping of mighty gladiators, a nice acrobat pairing, many household slaves, there is none that seem to have the makings of a personal man for the wearer of the half-knot.

 

Caerrovon will go back, but Brak says that they would be late for the evening meal if they do not make haste and the Lord likes the meals to be served on time. Brak is under no misapprehension that further visits will be easier, however.

 

That night for the first time, Caerrovon has a nightmare that wakes him, gasping with horror.

 

Over the following tendays Brak and Caerrovon visit the Slave Market. Sometimes there is a man who seems almost right for the position, but something makes Caerrovon stay clear of him, and that makes him feel all the more guilty, wondering if his feelings are leaving the man to a life of horrible hardships, and if the feelings are even correct!

 

The next time they go, Brak is marching Caerrovon past the early Floors and through the middle Floors, merely wanting to be done with the day’s ordeal when Caerrovon stops. Brak, walking beside him rather than behind him as is the normal custom, has to turn and come back. His Master is looking at a boy about his age. He has been beaten with sticks quite recently, his shoulders and the back of his thighs are striped with welts, and he has been whipped a few weeks back, but he is standing taking an interest in his surroundings. When he sees Caerrovon looking at him he smiles a little and ducks his head, respecting the half-knot. He is shackled hand and foot to the post in the middle of the Floor.

 

“This one,” Caerrovon says, decidedly.

 

“No, Master Caerrovon, _not_ this one. You need a trained warrior with social skills and ability to help you in your dress and – and everything I do for you. This lad has none of the correct training and he is far too young. Your father will not approve.”

 

“Again, Brak, if I saw a colt untrained to the saddle, as wild as could be, but something about his conformation, his obvious intelligence, the light in his eye caught my attention, I would say to myself that it is better to buy and train such a colt than purchase a beautiful but badly trained horse that needs retraining! And the horse may be cheaper for being untrained.”

        

By this time the Slaver has come slinking up like some species of venomous reptile, and is nodding his head and agreeing with the young heir. “He is not expensive, Master! He is new from the north, and in perfect health, perfect teeth, he has some training with weapons, and comes from a good family.”

 

“My Master is not in the market for a boy, Irresect! We seek a man grown!”

 

“How much is he?” asks Caerrovon, though he had no real idea how to compare prices. If he had been in the Horse Market in truth, he could have haggled with the best trader in the place.

 

“Master, the Lord will blame me for this, if you buy completely the wrong sort of slave.

 

Caerrovon hesitates and the boy looks at him, shrugs resignedly, and mouths, “Thank you, anyway.”

 

“I do not want to get you into trouble, Brak…” starts the heir, and the Slaver, Irresect, immediately drops the price by ten per cent.

 

“Well, if you insist on going against my better judgement, you will!” Brak tells him determinedly. Hopefully he can use the boy’s good heart to rein him in!

 

(The Slaver lowers the price by a further fifteen percent.)

 

“I like the look of him,” Caerrovon agrees, “but what do I know of buying slaves, after all!”

 

“Nothing whatsoever,” Brak tells him, heaving a sigh of relief. He would not have felt so reassured had he seen the wink that Caerrovon shot at the young lad. Immediately the shackled slave droops sadly, and turns away from the prospective buyer.

Irresect lowers the price another ten per cent, pleading that he has nine children to feed, and this will ruin him.

 

“That sounds far more reasonable,” Caerrovon says. “I shall take him.”

 

“But – but - ” begins Brak in dismay.

 

“Do not worry, I shall see that he is trained, and we can be friends, Brak. After all, you are younger than my father!”

 

“I was not his man when he was your age, Master! Leran was!”

 

“Oh, I knew not. However, it is of no import. How do we go about this, please?”

 

The boy is released from his irons and walks carefully over to his new master. “Thank you, my Lord,” he says, simply.

 

“Master Caerrovon will do, I am not the Lord, as you well know! What is your name?”

 

“Jarad, Master Caerrovon.”

 

“Well, you’d better prove my opinion of you to my man here, his name is Brak, and later to the Lord himself, my father.”

 

“I will try and fill the position you wish me to fill.”

 

“Good. Can we leave, now, Brak?”

 

“I will take care of the sale, Master. But Jarad needs to be taken to the nearest Slave baths and washed before he comes home with us. They will provide some interim clothing as well.”

 

“That sounds like a very good idea!” Caerrovon nods. “You will like that, Jarad?”

 

“I would like that above all things, Master!”

 

“I will take him,” Caerrovon says to Brak, sunnily. “You fix this man.” The look he gave the Slaver was not one of approbation!

 

Brak is torn between wanting to obey his Master and insisting on going with the slave to the baths! However, he hesitates and is lost – Caerrovon and Jarad, now talking animatedly, leave him standing there.

 

By the time he reaches the baths, Jarad is clean and better-dressed in the usual red-brown, badly fitting clothes the place provides. He looks so happy that Brak can almost feel glad he has let his Master have his way, despite the scolding he is likely to get from his Lord for this. At least Jarad is untrained and therefore very cheap!

 

When Caerrovon sees him, though, things go from bad to disastrous. “Jarad says there are two brothers on the floors. They have been tortured, Brak. Their sister was raped repeatedly until she died!”

 

“Master, that is terrible I agree. It seldom gets that bad, but it does happen, I know. Take down the Slave Hounds who did this we can not, however!”

 

“No, the two boys were sold to the Market Slaver here, they do not know who the Hounds worked for, though if we find out from which area they were stolen – because stolen they were – and abducting people, especially children they can _not!_ Brak, that is against the _law!”_

 

“I doubt the Slaver who owns them will allow you to talk to them, Master Caerrovon! Come, enough of this! The means and experience to save everyone you do not have, my boy!”

 

“He will not let me speak to them while he owns them, but when I own them I can ask them, Brak!”

 

Brak is so taken-aback by this that Jarad and Caerrovon, discussing their plans, walk out while he is still staring at the wall in horror! He runs to catch up, and catches Caerrovon’s sleeve. “Master, I must insist you reconsider! Please! How do you think your father will react when you tell him this tale and show him three slaves when not one have you been authorised to purchase!”

 

“If as outraged as I am he is not, the man I think he is he is not, Brak!”

 

“He will blame me – and rightly so!”

 

“I will make sure he does not. I will take full responsibility, Brak!”

 

“Thank you, Master Caerrovon,” Jarad says, devoutly. “I thought men of honour had ceased to exist.”

 

 

The next two fifty-days are the worst Caerrovon can remember, ever. When the three of them go to tell the Lord, having left the two boys, Shef and Jawl, in the infirmary, for they are truly in the weakest of conditions, Caerrovon does exactly as he had promised and tells his father that he went against Brak’s advice and bought not one but three slaves who are not ready to take Brak‘s place as they are too young and untrained, and that he bought two of them only to save them from further mistreatment.

 

At first Lord Steel is so confused by his son’s impassioned story that he has to sit down and ask Brak to explain. He speaks to Jarad and then, when Brak tells him about the condition of the other two boys, he loses his temper in spectacular fashion. He sends Jarad off to have Ophera look after him and then sets about berating Brak for his lack of control over his son and total lack of responsibility generally.

         Caerrovon immediately intervenes and tries to explain what led him to buy the two damaged boys who had been through so much. He repeats the fact that Brak has done his best to stop him but that he felt it was extremely important to find out from where these slaves are being taken and then tortured in such fashion.

 

The Lord, now completely incensed, tells Brak to leave them. Brak begs him to be calm, that everything can be resolved and that his son was acting from the highest principles. “Go, or I will take you and your wife to the Market and find myself another man, Brak! I am extremely disappointed in you – and my son.”

 

Caerrovon tells Brak to go, and tries to explain, but his father is having none of it. Stating that his son is defying him and his orders, he thrashes Caerrovon as he never has before. The beating is exceedingly painful, but far worse for Caerrovon is the fact that his father cannot see the problem that seems so obvious to him, that so urgently needs fixing. For the first time in his young life, he finds he can not trust someone close to him. Confide in his father he can not.

 

To make matters worse, the two lads are very sick. Caerrovon and Jarad spend time with them when they can, but both Caerrovon and Brak – and Ophera, who had nothing whatever to do with this – seem to be under the Lord’s suspicious eye, he seems to be waiting to pounce on them for any further disobedience, no matter how slight.

 

“I am so sorry, Brak. I should have listened to you,” Caerrovon tells him. “I could have had you sold! You and Ophera! I – I – Brak, understand my father in this I can not.”

 

“I doubt he would have followed through with that threat, Master. I certainly hope he would not! I am sorry that he was so very harsh with you, Master. He sees it as disobedience of the worst sort, especially as he feels we were arguing with him. And you did spend money on perhaps three lost causes.”

 

“I like Jarad, and he is working very hard to learn all he needs to learn. Thank you for teaching him in those areas where you excel. I know I can rely on him, Brak. I _know_ it! And after all, after our clever trick, we got Jarad for such a low price, and we got Jawl and Shef for almost nothing – which I think was expensive, but we would have spent much more on a trained man, Brak!”

 

“Trick?”

 

“Yes, me saying I wanted Jarad, and you pretending to give me all the reasons we should not get him, and the Slaver lowering the price so he could get the money in his hand! How laugh we did not…!”

 

Brak groans. “Want you to get him I truly did not! It was not a trick, and please, please, do not use those arguments about the money with your father! He is quite likely to take his razor-strop to you again!”

 

Caerrovon looks puzzled. “Understand I do not, Brak!”

 

“Just say ‘Yes, Sir’ and ‘No, Sir’ to your father for the next season or two, Master, for both our sakes!”

 

“I will, Brak. I have not told him how disappointed I feel.”

 

“No, I think you should keep that to yourself, also, Caerrovon!”

 

Caerrovon hugs Brak and smiles. But when first Shef and then Jawl succumb to their multiple injuries and deep grief, he is furious and so, too, is the Lord, though for totally different reasons. Things look to go very badly for Caerrovon but the Lord, Brak and a group of soldiers are leaving immediately on their scheduled trip to the House and delay they can not.

 

 

Caerrovon is too astute not to be aware that the whole atmosphere of the Keep lightens as their hoofbeats fade! Sala, the Lady of the Kitchen, and all her workers, get busy and make a feast! Everyone sits round the table and talks loudly, something the Lord likes not! The farm children come in and play in the corridors, as there is snow on the ground without.

 

 

 

Jarad and Caerrovon train hard on their skills with all the weapons as well as their horsemanship. Jarad has a lot to learn to reach similar standards to his Master, but with Leran, Klenalth and Caerrovon all working with him, he is soon contesting Caerrovon in some disciplines.

 

To Caerrovon, Jarad is a friend like Ethlan, but with a deeper side. Jarad has seen and experienced things that his Master can only guess at, or experience second hand when Jarad talks. But the real gift Jarad gives Caerrovon is laughter and fun, along with a friend of his own age right here that he can confide in. Jarad is smart enough to fall into strict protocol when the situation calls for this, and to push Caerrovon into the hay when they are tussling when no-one is watching – and then laugh about it.

 

By the time Lord Steel returns, the two wretched young boys have been quietly buried, finally out of their misery.

The Lord has had enough of politicians and anyone who can not say something they mean in simple and direct language! He is so pleased to be home that he gives his son a hug before he remembers he is still displeased with him, and then it seems a little late to try and resume the coldness! When he sees how hard Jarad is working to become the perfect manservant, and how happy his son seems to be in his company, he forgets his initial anger about the purchase. After all, there are many warriors who can guard both the boys as they grow! And Brak can stay with them both unless he needs his man.

 

 

Caerrovon seldom uses his signet ring. When he can, he makes purchases and collects money by asking the vendors to overcharge and give him the difference in Marks. When he collects enough, he goes to the Slave Market with Brak and buys a slave, often a child, and gives them to one of the freeman tenants on the estate, exacting from each a promise to keep it a secret, and then gives small amounts each fifty-day. He knows it is a mere token in the tide of slavery, but it is something he can do.

 

 

Brak is astonished at the intensity of the training schedule Leran has developed for his Master. If he cannot find them, usually they are at work at the exercises, or acting as partners in a mock fight or in a lesson with Leran himself. They may be yet boys and play the fool, joke with each other and Brak, insist on trying trick riding stunts that have earned them beatings from a Lord more alarmed for their own safety than anything, but they both take the fights very seriously, and often end up with bruises from the dull practise weapons. But when he speaks to Leran, thinking that he is being very demanding with the boys, Leran tells him it is none of his doing, that the boys approached him and begged more of his time whenever he could give it to them, and for ways to improve their strength, endurance and skills.

 

“He is a Steel after all, Brak,” Leran points out. “Our Lord was just as bad when he was younger! I used to watch him as a child, amazed at how he would push himself. I thought, of course, that since he was a Lord he could just order his men to fight for him!”

 

They watch as Caerrovon, gaining a momentary advantage against Jarad, follows it up aggressively, forcing his friend back across the floor and disarming him.

         “He is good,” Brak says, rather astonished.

 

“They both are developing excellently, Brak! I am very proud. Do not tell them so, however! They have a long way to go to be warriors, but they both have the focus. It is just a matter of training and development and growth. Some of that accelerate for Master Caerrovon I can not, no matter how he begs!”

 

 

 

Caerrovon feels as though life is different after visiting the Slave Market and getting Jarad. Firstly, though he knows he is going to be responsible for all of the lives within the Keep one day, he is now responsible for one, completely. He is blessed in that Jarad is a good lad, with a sense of fun and a sense of honour who complements him and lightens his mood.

 

“Thank you,” Jarad says to him, often. “Who knows where I would be if at the Market that day you had not been . Thank you for treating me so well, Master.”

 

“Caerrovon, for the Creator’s sake! We are alone!”

 

“I forget, Caerrovon.

         “Your father seemed pleased last night when he saw us working with the swords…?”

 

“Yes. I am half-Laffay, you know. I believe he expects me to shun all physical work more arduous than dancing and singing!”

 

“So you work so hard to prove you are not weak and gentle?” Jarad asks, pointedly.

 

Caerrovon chuckles a little. “That is a good by-product of the process, as wax from the bees, seed-meal from satler plants and oil from lappa plants!”

 

“So what is the honey and fibre, Caerrovon?”

 

“Forgotten your story about being taken from your home and family I have not. Forgotten about Jawl and Shef I _certainly_ have not.”

 

“But which Slavers raided their village and took them we know not, Caerrovon!”

 

“Yes, we do. I would sit and the boys would tell me small details, and some of the things they told were useful. I have found out which Slavers did this. When we are strong enough, my friend, we will rain justice upon their brutal heads and destroy their business completely.”

 

“You know?”

 

“I do. They are not quite local, but live a half-day’s journey to the south.”

 

“How exciting! When can we go?”

 

Caerrovon laughs. “I know you wish to exterminate these barbarians, as do I! But we need to be far more prepared, Jarad! We must be strong as the strongest warriors! When we can best Leran just once – just once, at anything! – we might think of going on this mission.”

 

“Oh!” says Jarad, a little dismayed, for neither of them are near this level of ability!

 

“I refuse to put your life in danger, shield-mate! You have suffered enough at their hands, and we have lost two boys who could have been our friends to these monsters, indeed, their sister also!”

 

“Shield-mate! This is how you think of me?”

 

“We have shared our blood and taken an oath to rid our planet of these vermin. I think that counts, do not you?”

 

Jarad smiles delightedly, but is still impatient to be able to fulfil their mission. Thus the two work even harder. Leran at first is confused at their determination: even boyish competitiveness cannot explain it. One day, more than a full four-season after their discussion, they sit down in the stableyard with Leran, Brak and Klenalth and tell them of their wish for vengeance.

 

Brak and Klenalth are horrified. “Your father would never condone this, Master! He has never re-married, you are his only heir! You cannot risk yourself for this raid that is not even your business! After all…these men who will be there may not even be the same men who raped and beat the other family, taking all of you, Jarad away from your homes.”

 

Caerrovon looks at Brak and sees that Brak is startled at the steadfastness he knows is shining out of his eyes. “If it is not the business of the likes of me, with all my advantages, my training, my wealth, my time I have to put towards honing my skills, then whose business is it?

         “If my father has not remarried and provided me with eight or ten brothers, that does not change what is in my heart.

“You heard me, Brak, you were with me when I swore to change the situation. And one of the reasons we are sharing this resolve with all of you is that we hope that you will support us, keep it secret from my father, for he certainly would try and stop me, and if he whips me bloody and shackles me in the basement – as Jarad was whipped and shackled – I will find a way.

“However, it would be easier with your help and advice and wisdom. And one of the reasons is that you can help us discover if these men are now conducting their business honourably, or if, as we fear, have continued to treat people as soulless goods, less than the most simple of stock.”

 

“Leran, tell him!” Brak pleaded. “You know the risks better than anyone! They could be killed, maimed, perhaps.”

 

“Better a man loses his arm than his heart, his spirit, his spine!” Leran said, quietly. “I have watched these two boys work and sweat and rest and start again. This is not a joke, a game to them. Their arms may yet be weak, but their hearts are the hearts of warriors. Brak, if these men have changed, and treat people the right way, I shall do my best to argue them from their course. If not, I shall be at their side…but…”

 

Caerrovon and Jarad are all lit up, bouncing in delight at this endorsement from a man not known for his impractical enthusiasms. At the last word, they lose their smiles, till he goes on _, “But,_ Master and Jarad, you will listen to us – especially me. You are not ready, I think you know that. Even when we gather the information you seek. You need to rely on my judgement of your abilities, or I withdraw my support immediately. I will not risk your lives, my life and the lives of my men and women. Do you agree to my strictures?”

 

Jarad and Caerrovon nod. They themselves do not feel ready to cross swords with the evil Slavers, however optimistic they might be.

 

When they go on visits to Betchem and Camber and Laffay – and even Sunder, now and then – they still practise and challenge other boys to good-natured contests and duels. They watch each other and try to learn all they can from anyone and everyone. The armsmasters at the other Keeps are pleased to help.

         Between this, of course, they get into just as much mischief as the other youngsters! In fact, more! Caerrovon and Jarad know how strict Lord Steel is, and have felt his displeasure too often to take too many risks at Steel.

The other Lords are less intolerant of youthful mischief and, Caerrovon acknowledges to himself, they take advantage of this leniency. It is only later, when he can talk to them as a man and a Lord that they tell him that they loosened the ropes for him and Jarad a little more than usual because his father was so dour! Instead of a beating, he and Jarad have to stand and hang their heads and listen to a long lecture and then have to clean the whole Keep’s tack for a few days (which would be full time work at Steel, but not as much at the other Keeps unless there is a special event) or clean out and maintain all the fires in the Keep!

 

 

 

Their adult co-conspirators at Steel ask for information from travellers, especially itinerant merchants they trust, or minstrels, or even some of the Slavers at the Market, though they do this through intermediaries, asking which men who capture slaves bring in the best merchandise in unharmed condition and which are the opposite, as though wishing to find suitable vendors.

 

Caerrovon and Jarad are beginning to wonder if this raid will ever happen when Leran calls them to his rooms and there, with Brak and Klenalth, he tells them he thinks they are ready and that, from all they can gather, the Slavers in question had grown in number and increased in depravity.

 

“We go?” Caerrovon asks, breathlessly, hardly daring to believe the day had finally dawned.

 

“As soon as a good opportunity presents itself. It is a good few hours ride, Master, and if we are to keep it from the Lord, he has to be occupied, and in a way that does not require any of us to be present. I have asked and there are some young volunteers, men and women who are young enough to trust me entirely, good enough to be of use in the fight, and they will keep this a secret from your father.”

 

“I care not about my father’s ire once the thing is done,” Caerrovon shrugs.

 

“If he finds out that we went without his permission and putting his only son and heir at risk for his life, he would think it quite a reasonable response to at the very least sell us, Caerrovon, or have us severely punished. You would not come through unscathed, especially as you hover on legal adulthood, but you need to think of us, too. It is likely we will be caught, extremely unlikely we will none of us be injured so that we need attention. You need to understand the consequences, Master.”

 

Leran is very serious. Caerrovon looks at Jarad, and nods. “We count the cost later. We would be most grateful for men and assistance, but if it is the two of us alone, we will go. I will not order or constrain any one of you to put yourselves at risk, which I know I could do since you are loyal to me as well as my father. I will not think badly of any who wish, for family concerns or any other, to stay behind at Steel.”

 

Leran nods. “I will send some of our scouts to watch and learn what they can of the nest’s activities and security. They may not even post guards, their kind are used to bullying the helpless, once the warriors of small villages, usually just a few poorly armed and trained men, are killed. They have never been attacked to my knowledge, the Military have never been sent against them. This is a significant advantage.

“If we can take the men down quietly, and retain that element as long as possible, we will do well. However, there are warriors amongst them and as soon as we enter an open confrontation we are likely to be outnumbered and it is that I fear. You have worked hard, you are strong and fast, Master Caerrovon, Jarad, but it is not the same as a fight to the death.

         “You have seen death, but you have never seen the light leave a man’s eyes as he slips from your sword. That is something I cannot teach you, and it is likely that you will hesitate. You would hardly be human if you did not!”

 

Caerrovon and Jarad nod thoughtfully.

 

“I do not think less highly of you for this,” Leran goes on, “but in truth, I will have to have warriors cover for you in an open fight.”

 

“I am sorry for this lack in us,” Caerrovon tells his Arms Master, “but, after all, we have to face this test soon or late, Leran. I would rather it be in _this_ battle, where we know exactly for what we fight.”

 

“We will fight remembering Shef and Jawl,” Jarad agrees, his jaw clenching. “I will find it easier to kill a man, thinking of their suffering.”

 

“Now we must wait for the right season, when your Lord father is away or totally consumed in some project, so that Brak and I can get away, as well as the two of you, for a full half-day. We can return at night and pray that he is none the wiser!”

 

Caerrovon notes that Leran is sure that the Lord will notice, because of their injuries if for no other reason. Leran is weighing the odds: he is the Arms Master of the Keep and, though young, is an adept with swords and knives, and expert with most others – and he is a good teacher. He was also the Lord’s man, and a friend.

         Brak, too, holds a position that would be hard to fill.

         The younger warriors he trusts to follow him and the heir blindly and trustingly will not be held responsible. The worst is the possible casualties. Despite the reconnaissance, it is an unknown target. He dislikes lacking information so vital, and with the heir’s life at stake, but Caerrovon is a man and has sworn a vow. What will you? It is a good vow, an honourable vow.

         Caerrovon smiles at the Arms Master, and Leran realises his feelings have been plain. He smiles back.

 

 

The night is as dark as any dungeon Jarad has experienced. He knows not that Caerrovon is thinking that only their second dungeon is darker: Jarad has never been down there! It is a cold night, the ground is hard but bare. It has been a dry spring. They are travelling south and the moons have just set. It is only going to get darker…but there are the stars, brilliant. Somehow comforting, that up there it is all bright and beautiful. Jarad wonders if it is a peaceful as it looks.

 

The small group of warriors picked by Leran is following behind Caerrovon, Jarad, Brak and Leran himself. Then suddenly there is a dark shadow that detaches itself from the trees, and Caerrovon and Jarad start, but Leran makes a soft sound and the young man answers like the wind in the dry ribbon grasses. Caerrovon and Leran huddle with him.

         “They are settled for the night. As far as I can tell, they are all there: thirty-one of them. But there is another group who billet here when they are in the area. They are unlikely to return, but they have no fixed schedule we can discern, so we must be aware.

“Of this group, as I said, only fifteen are soldiers in good training, though I would guess most of them have some combat or Military training, but only those carry swords as though they are ready to use them. The others carry weapons, but I think are not as ready, not as strong. But be careful of them all, they are horrible men.”

 

The basic evaluation is whispered down the line. Leran is no less concerned. They are a company of twelve, but none of these have battle experience other than Brak and himself, they are all young: willing, well-trained, loyal, but unproven. Hours of training help, but no-one really knows how a man or woman will react to battle until the fight is joined. Nothing can prepare them.

 

Leran, Brak and two others slip quiet as shadows from tree to tree. It was not Leran’s intention, but Caerrovon is one of them. There are guards posted, but if they had been Steel watchmen, Leran would have had them reassigned to the scullery permanently! However, that is to the Steel Keeper's benefit. He takes down two as Caerrovon watches, and the heir, not wishing to falter before his men, follows Leran’s example and, using his Steel height, reaches round and feels his dagger-blade slice the guard’s throat, all but silently, though it is harder to do than he expected, even with a razor-sharp edge. The man crumples with a dull thud.

         _Should have practised on a carcase! Still, he’s down. For Shef and Jawl!_

Between them, they take the rest of the guards – except one. A young Steel Keeper by the name of Gert slips on the ice as he about to deliver the blow and the next thing, the guard has drawn his weapon, raised the alarm with a yell and Gert is fighting for his life. Jarad races over to help, his sword slithering from its sheath…a noise echoed across the frost as the Slavers pour out of the building.

 

Caerrovon loses track of the others as he fights. Sometimes he catches sight of Leran out of the corner of his eye, sometimes Brak, sometimes two of the other young warriors a few winters his senior. He is attacked first by a large, robust man wielding a cruciform sword of great weight. He teeth are bared in fury, and yet he smiles when he sees the youth before him.

         “You come to die, lad!” he snarls in Cortisan standard, and swings that great sword. To Caerrovon, time slows. He wonders at it…it is like a tale in a book. If the sword ever connected, he would be split in twain at the waist, but he flicks his wrist, brings his sword round and runs the man through in the split seconds it takes for the man to ready himself. There is a gush of blood, a smell that is metallic and something far more awful still, and it takes him a second to wrest the blade free from the falling corpse…a dangerous second, another Slaver’s blade slices his sleeve and into his dagger arm.

 

Again he wonders, for he knows he is wounded, yet felt no pain, just force enough to cause him to stagger. He swings to defend himself, but one of the other Steel warriors, he is not sure who in the gloom and shadows, takes the Slaver down with a hamstring injury, then slices through the carotid. The glint of their eyes smile at each other, then they turn away from each other to new adversaries…

 

The battle seems at one time endless, and over so soon they are startled. There are bodies lying everywhere. Some Slavers are still groaning, and Leran goes around with awful efficiency and gives them the death-blow.

 

Steel Keeper’s gather, most are smiling in relief at their victory…but very soon Caerrovon realises that Jarad is not smiling, he is bent over and even in the dull light his face is ashen.

 

Brak calls for the little group to identify themselves and their injuries, while he does his best to staunch the flow of blood from a terrible wound in Jarad’s abdomen. Thankfully, most call out their name and add “Slight, just cuts, I can walk” or something similar. Caerrovon is trying to hold Jarad, but suddenly finds he himself is dizzy. He is horrified: is he faint from the stress of a single, short fight? Is he not fit to serve?

         Then he realises that his dagger-arm is wet, the sleeve soaked with blood. Leran has seen it. He swiftly bandages Caerrovon’s arm, now throbbing like the blazes, as tightly as possible, and says, “We cannot stay here lest the others return. We need to make our way back to the horses as swiftly as possible. Brak and I will carry Jarad. Who – Gert and Jaffle, you are the biggest after us, you help the Master.”

 

They struggle to the horses, and manage to get Jarad up on his steed. Leran rides beside him, doing his best to hold him steady. Caerrovon rides on his other side, horrified that his determination to seek revenge might lose him his best friend.

 

Jarad turns his head, and smiles at Caerrovon. “Did it. For Shef and Jawl.”

 

“Dare to die, Jarad, just _dare_ – I shall demand twice your purchase price of you!”

 

They do their best. All of them have cuts, bruises, even Leran has a cut across his cheek. Leran leads them through the forest in as quick a way as possible. They are weary and stiff now, in the cold, and the horses stumble here and there. Brak and Leran share a glance and know that they are taking too long. Then Jarad almost falls from his saddle, and Leran and Caerrovon scramble down and take him down from his horse.

 

“Is there anything we can do, Leran, Brak?” Caerrovon asks, his face and voice as stony as his father’s ever was.

 

“I doubt it, my son,” Brak tells him. “It is a massive wound. Even if we got him to the Keep…”

 

“He did what he wanted to do,” Leran adds, “what you both wanted to do. There are worse ways of dying, Master.”

 

Caerrovon nods and walks away a little. He wonders if it is worth it, to lose Jarad if it means they stop those Slavers treating many, many more people as badly as they always had.

         He stares up between the bare, criss-crossing twigs, can only see a few stars. Everlasting stars. How is it that something so distant and cold can live forever and his warm, loving, laughing friend could die, as his mother had died, as Shef and Jawl had died? Is it because they are empty, free of the pulsing blood of humankind that they are both peaceful and eternal?

 

_I have no answers! I can do nothing! I need help! Please, please help! Great Creator, I can do nothing, please, please!_

For a while that seems dark as an eternal hollowness, he seems suspended between the soil and the sky, and then he blinks, wondering if the wind has risen…no. It is a bird-song. No birds sings at night this early in the spring…but it sounds like a birdsong.

 

He sees a light and starts to back towards the group in the clearing. The horses hear, and lift their heads. Caerrovon bumps into Brak, and the men and women are leaving Jarad to look.

 

“It is a Winter Wind,” Leran whispers in horror.

 

“They are a tale to frighten children,” Brak hisses back.

 

“Well, look you, see what I see…?”

 

Caerrovon, his heart thumping against his breast-bone like the hooves of a giant horse kicking against the stable door, sees a very tall, very slender woman. She does not carry a light; she seems to exude light. She is making her way between the trees towards them, it seems, unhurried. It is she that is singing.

         Her vestments and hair are white as her serene-looking face, glowing, but tinged to differing degrees with blue near the delicate ends. Her hair and soft, light clothing seem to move in a wind they cannot feel, or do so of their own will. No-one in their right mind would ride or even walk with long hair free, long skirts and sleeves free, read to snag on any twig, yet these seem to reach out to touch the trees, but never become entangled.

 

Leran draws his sword and steps in front of the group. “You are not welcome here! Leave the children alone!”

 

Brak and Caerrovon move to stand beside him, though Caerrovon is as terrified as he has ever been in all his few winters! He knows his sword hand is shaking and is so hyper-sensitive to the presence of this woman, a demon, a Thief of Children, a Stealer of Souls that he cares not if anyone sees! Ophera calls these beings ‘Witches of Winter’.

 

The female being moves closer, apparently unafraid of these armed men. She looks straight at Caerrovon and says, “Choose, Heir of Steel.”

         He flinches. It is no great trick, he wears the half-knot and the coloured ribbon in silver and bright, dark, blue, but he feels her reaching within him as a fisherman moves his hand through the water.

 

She laughs, suddenly, like bells or streams in spring-time. It should calm him, but everyone knows they use beauty to deceive.          “Caerrovon, you called me!” she continues. “Your friend lies close to death and you can do nothing. Tell me, what worse can befall him at my hand than death, therefore?”

 

“Things no mortal can tell, Witch!” Brak says. “Let the poor lad die in peace. Take me, if you must.”

 

“Brak, dear, I wish to take no-one. What would I do, dragging a diverse tail of humans through the forest, indeed?”

 

“You can help Jarad?” Caerrovon asks, desperate enough to trust even this strange being.

 

“I can.”

 

“Then do so,” he says, and waves the others back, stepping out of her path.

 

She smiles at him, goes and settles on the ground like thistle-down on a falling breeze. She starts to sing.

 

As they listen, they all begin to feel unbelievably tired and weary. One by one they sink to the forest floor as though they have no bones. Their swords clatter from senseless fingers. The horses lower their heads a little and tip one back foot at the fetlock.

 

 

 

Caerrovon awakes and sees that his men, as he himself, are coming to themselves from a deep sleep. He remembers and struggles upright. The Winter Witch has disappeared…and Jarad lies still as death, his clothing soaked in blood.

 

_A dream?_

Then Jarad sits up, feels his side and takes his hand away sticky with old blood. “Yuech!” he says, and gets awkwardly to his feet!

 

“Jarad! You – you were dying!” Caerrovon puts his arms round his friend.

 

“I feel fine. Just very hungry! And cold! Did we pack any food?”

 

Caerrovon is wrenching the bandages and clothing away from Jarad’s side and abdomen. Beneath is clean, smooth skin, no sign of the sword stroke that had nearly killed him. Caerrovon feels his own arm – it is solid and firm as ever, no pain, nothing.

 

“Do you have to – it is very cold! I am from further north, you might remember!” Jarad complains, struggling to tuck his bloody clothing back into his trews.

 

“What happened last night?” Leran asks, completely confused.

 

“I know not and I care not! I say we all dreamed that Winter Witch!” Gert declares.

 

“No, we did not, and she is called a Chiri, her name is Lira,” Caerrovon says, realising that he knows these things. “And she is to be honoured in all of Steel for saving us! Do I have your words?”

 

The warriors all nod or say, “Aye, you have it, Master.”

 

“I think we keep it from your father, Master,” Leran says with decision.

 

Caerrovon grins suddenly. “I bow to your wise advice. Let us keep this between ourselves, all of the happenings of last night! Smell - the dawn is approaching…we need to make haste.”

 

They mount their horses, who seem none the worse for being left fully tacked through the night and, suddenly light-hearted, start off down the hill.

 

Leran is preoccupied, Caerrovon is aware. He is just exceedingly thankful that, if they make good time, Lord Steel will never know of this night’s work. If the Wind Witch is in any way responsible for that, he can honour her!

 

 

 

 

Neal opens his eyes, astounded. He and Caerrovon stare at each other, the bright blue eyes, the light green with the grey ring, all drowned in tears. Neal gasps, “I knew not that it would be an exchange, my Lord! I have relived all my childhood and all of yours, indeed!”

 

“Fair exchange, son,” Caerrovon smiles a little, hugging him close. “Your trust for mine, Neal.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

End of Chapter 36.

And yeah - love comments if you wish and have time!


	37. Mulling over the shadows and finding the light.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal finds the answers he needs from the people he needs.
> 
> One bad word!...okay, better correct that - one SWEAR word! :D

 

 

 

“I asked not, expected not that from you, my Lord!” Neal insists. “Did I ask for something that required you to share? Can it not be just you reading me? You should have told me.”

“There are some who can force full empathy even against the will of another, or so I am told. I know no-one who can, or would do such a thing. I could certainly have read you, my son, and allowed not any of my memories and emotions to reach you. But that seems unfair!  
..........“Your show of trust was incredible to me: you are not Laffay, you are a man cloaked in secrets and I am an alien to you…”

Neal was suddenly choking back tears and Steel held him tightly. “Neal,” he said, softly, “I am sorry…that must have been traumatic for you.”

Neal nodded against his chest, and said, “It is not as though I had forgotten completely, my Lord, but …I also realised not the extent to which I would re-experience the memories as though they were happening _right now!_ Fresh, unfiltered by decades of time. I had pushed them away so often, looked forward only.  
..........“I see my father walking away from me and know from my modern eyes that he never came back. I saw him, later, but the father I loved and trusted never came back, never looked after me or my mother.  
..........“And to this day I do not know the whole truth about him, did you know? He was a victim or a murderer or both – it should not matter, in my life he is not…and that not even his choice, it was leave or be imprisoned, and in much greater danger than Peter because of the past…there were still these evil people in positions of power…many people tried to make me feel he was a coward, but if committing suicide is cowardly…! He knew Peter had a better chance, and no-one asked Peter to even be there…he was told to leave…yet I felt guilty because my father left and I did nothing to stop him, nothing to save _Peter!”_

He sobbed, and Steel held him for a long while in silence. “I am sorry you did not realise this, I was astounded that you wanted to experience this with me…but this is us, Neal, humans, we have memories filled with victories and disappointments, heroes and villains! I think we are blessed that the memories fade a little, overlaid with new ones.”

“Cry at the time I could not…” Neal hiccoughed.

“And now you can, and you are here with me, and I demean you not, Neal.”

“It was especially saddening seeing my life compared directly with yours, my Lord. You are a hero, in truth, from the time you were a child! Looking back – _being_ back – I am not sure you chose this son well, but I am more convinced I chose this father well!”

Steel pulled back and gazed down at his slightly-damp son. “What?”

“My family – we would call it ‘dysfunctional’ – not working, in the truest sense of the word! - and that would be an understatement! A possible murderer for a father, a mother who was addicted to alcohol, poor woman, who was then murdered herself, and I know not still who orchestrated that! – a son that started out his life of crime so early he cannot remember much before that phase, who then himself murdered a stranger - ”

“If you are going to dive headfirst into self-pity and condemnation, would it be convenient to you if I said a few words first? I am assuming you wanted me to know how it felt to be you, little Neal?”

“Sorry, my Lord. I did not mean to be…unconstructive? But compared to your life - ! Apart from having a father who had very high expectations and was hard on you, **_I_** think…and such a pity your mother died so early! Oh - I am so glad I saw her through your eyes! …  
..........“But if you were, as a good Steel Keeper, going to choose me for my breeding and past performance – ‘form’, we call it in horse racing on Earth – you would not spend a dime on me!”

Caerrovon smiled. “My father wanted the best for me. I always knew that. Poor man, I was a trial to him! When we had any discussions, it often seemed to be when he was angry or disappointed, trying to weigh up punishments that might train me in better ways! I think he would have been better, less strict, if my mother had been alive. As it was, we survived each other, and loved each other and admired each other, I think, despite our differences.  
...........“And Neal, my Neal, how you grew up _at all_ is a mystery to me, let alone grew up brilliant and relatively emotionally stable, or able to play that role! I know you are kind and compassionate and gentle and I find it hard to know where you learnt these virtues!  
............“I must ask you this: how did you ever learn to trust? You had literally no-one before this Jake, and then Steve, and you held yourself greatly back from both of them! How is it that you are the man that sits here today and lets an alien Lord _read_ his every thought and feeling?”

Neal lifted his head and looked into Steel’s eyes for a long moment and then he blinked and looked across at the fire and said, softly, “I think it helped that I have a good memory and some good memories from the time before my father left. I did trust him, you know. I trusted my mother, too. They were good to me. For seasons after my dad left us, I expected him to walk in and fix everything…even when I met him again, decades afterwards, though I tried not to, my instinct was to trust him. I _wanted_ to.  
..............“I said some horrible things to him, you know, wanting to protect myself. I knew he was keeping secrets, you see, and how could he not? I was embedded with the FBI, he knew me not! I must have seemed to him to be very trusting of Peter – which I was, and he knew not how deep and wide the corruption that lost him his badge went, whichever side of that mess he began.  
..............“I told him Peter had been more of a father than he ever had, and that was terribly unfair. I was trying to hurt him because he'd left us, and I knew it wasn't his fault. Peter had been in my life a little longer at that point, but Peter had never looked after me as a father looks after his only son!”

“Between you and Mozzie, I know there were times when you trusted Peter – perhaps too much – and times you mistrusted him completely, perhaps wrongly.”

“Exactly. Peter wanted me in his life for selfish reasons as well as altruistic ones! I helped his work, for instance. I wanted the kind of intimate friendship and trust I have with Mozzie. That was unreasonable of me. We were friends, off and on, we saved each other, we had great respect for the other’s skills, we trusted each other to save us from danger – and that is a huge trust to have!  
..............“But my father, my dad – he got nothing from a tiny baby except some love. He worked to support us, he played with me, he taught me. I could trust him completely and because I was so young, he could trust me for nothing in return. The relationships are not equal in any way!  
_________“And his choice it was not to leave us, I know that, whatever else is unproven!”

“I still say: from the time you were just a little more than an infant, Neal, you were on your own! You were making plans and surviving, even at school.”

“You saw, my Lord: I was lying and pretending. It was great practise for my future career!”

“Neal, dear man, can you not see that you were told to lie, to pretend? You were rewarded for doing so successfully! You were praised, given drawing equipment, accepted amongst your classmates. It became second nature to you, of course! There was never a time, after you were…three 'years' old?...Three winters old?”

“Something like that, little older.”

“…that you were allowed to tell the truth about yourself. You think that would not shape you?”

Neal paused and then gave a quick nod. “Seen it in that light I had not.  
..............“Still, I was lying and picking locks and stealing hand-cuffs – and murdering a man – while you were rescuing mistreated slaves and planning to do what you could to stop that horror!”

“You were picking locks and stealing hand-cuffs. I was working with a sword and daggers and my horses. You killed a man, very bravely, I thought, who had killed your mother. I killed, with a great deal of help, a nest of Slavers who raped and tortured children. I think you are good choice for my son! We are alike!”

“I could have gone to the police. You could not, Lord.”

“And had you gone to the police, what would have happened?" Neal remained silent. “The Law, the police, even your father and Ellen – they were all compromised in your eyes! As compromised as the system was and is here, for dealing with Slavers, though Mozzie is working on an argument to present to the House…it is so thorough and long and complete I feel we have a real chance – that, or the House will remain in session till the midwinter after next! Children will be born and the older generation will die before we return! Mozzie is very shrewd!”

  
He paused and continued, glad to have made Neal smile,  
..............“Tell me, Neal, when your mother was murdered: you were a child and all alone, but even now – do you think the very police force of which these corrupt policemen were a part would have investigated and ensured that justice was done, had you not taken the matter into your own hands?”

“N-no. My father killed Pratt, but to this day I know that certainly a few, perhaps dozens of cops that were part of that and grew in power and influence have never been brought to justice. They may have died during the wars, or from other means, but no-one, including Peter, ever had the clout – the power – to even investigate fully.  
..............“Hughes, our boss, was pushed out of his position, and he was such a nice man, good at his job. Peter was put in jail on murder charges – I am not surprised my father ran, whether or not he was guilty of the first murder which, the more I think about it, the more I doubt. Everyone who stood up to these bastards, everyone I knew of, was killed or had their teeth pulled.”

“Like Peter. He was lucky to have you to get him out of prison, it seems.”

“You would have to ask him about that!” Neal grinned, but his eyes were deep with sadness. “But it is true that it is easy to have someone killed in prison and make it look random, not connected to a case they were working on, for instance.  
.............“I wonder what happened to Calloway… She was hip-deep in at least some of that! Probably in some cushy job now!”

“The police and the FBI seem very corrupt for so-called law-enforment agencies!”

“Perhaps I attracted the bad ones, I know not! Peter had such blind faith in the system.”

“And Mozzie has absolute faith in your systems to be evil or not to work!”

They chuckled. Then Steel said, “You trust Mozzie.”

“As much as I trust you, my Lord. He and I have disagreed, but he has never let me down, even when I have let him down badly.”

“He is the one who won your trust, the first one after your father?”

“Mmm. And then I trusted Peter, thought I could, at least as a law man.”

“I am sure he did his best. As you do your best, as do I.  
..............“I saw your background as you saw mine. My father was difficult, but I had many people from several Keeps who supported me and loved me and trained me and helped me. They may not have accompanied me to kill the evil Slavers, and would not do so now – but I never felt I was on my own, had to fend for myself. Whereas you had no real home from the time you were three, I had three Keeps to call home, and Camber and Sunder would have taken me in had I asked.  
..............“We both went and killed for revenge for someone else, to put a stop to some evil. The circumstances are different, but our intentions were the same - and good, I think. Surely that is all we can ask of ourselves, that we have good intentions and follow our principles?”

Neal stayed quiet.

Steel went on, “I will never again question whether you are a man or not, Neal. It made my heart ache to experience your loneliness and loss and the way you had to keep working at having something, someone. I wish I could have been there, at your side, either as your father or a friend.”

Neal grinned a little. “So you will stop calling me your son?”

“No, for you will be my son when you are a hundred winters! I know now you are **_not_** a child and in fact have not been allowed to be a child from the time you were a few…years?...old! I think you should try and have fun, do things that a child would enjoy, laugh and eat cake and ..and…”

“…and try tricks on the back of horses and steal pies from Ophera’s larder and …”

“And I will not be the father to you that my father was to me! Especially as you know quite well that Ophera will bake pies for you and you alone, should you wish, and I think, Neal, that you will not wish to stand on the back of a galloping horse, or jump off one and on to it again while it gallops!”

“Can you do those tricks?”

“On good days, if I get back into practice, I can manage quite a few! I will show you one day.  
_______“Oh, Neal, do you honestly know how dear you are to me, how glad I am to have you in my life?”

“Even after seeing my past?”

“Much more after experiencing your past!  
_______“Oh, one thing you thought, or felt, over and over, that no-one answered your questions.”

“I suppose that is why I learnt to read and read everything and researched and studied – to get my questions answered! Silly reaction.”

“What was the question you most wanted to ask and have answered?”

“Oh, lots, Lord – Why had we left home, why was Mom always crying, why I was Neal no longer…”

“But the most important?”

“Why had my father left and was it because he loved me no longer…if it was my fault.”

“Oh, Neal, you poor little boy! You know now that your doing it was not?”

“Yes. I know. I know it was a murder, and WitSec and – my head knows it, my Lord.  
..............“When I saw him again, my father seemed to love me. He seemed very proud of me, my forgeries, things like that. He wanted me to do my own work. And I knew the answer to my question. I just never felt I could ask him! I am not sure if I felt silly, or if I was concerned that the answer would be that I was to blame! Is that not ridiculous?”

“Well here he is not. So, as your father in this time and space and planet, I am telling you, Neal – no, it was not your fault. Your father loved you and he grieved over you, over you growing up without him!”

“How can you know that! You read me, not my father!”

“I saw him through you, it helps, but the main reason is that I know you. I know you and you must be in some ways like your father – and since I am your father, I know how I would grieve, how I did grieve when I thought I had lost you.”

“And I must think I was cuter when I was three!”

“I think you must have been!”

They smiled at each other, then Neal asked, “Why did we stop, my Lord?”

“It was quite intense, was it not? I have been told – by Peter, Mozzie, June and yourself – bits of your life after the period I witnessed. Almost all of that was new to me.”

“I did not know most of what I saw of your early life, either.”

“I think I told Mozzie about how I met Lira.”

“I knew not.” Steel watched as his son sank into deep thought, waiting. “Thank you, my Lord.”

“If Aramalitha feels all of this, how will you cope?”

“You have seen my life and miraculously still see the best in me. If she is the right choice for me, she will, too. And it is a blessing that it will save us seasons of getting to know each other!”

Neal slipped down and fixed the fire again. Once they were again sitting side by side, he said, ..............“Can you understand, my Lord, in return, how grateful I am to have you in my life. I had June and Mozzie, now in addition I have you and Tammy and, Leran and Klenalth and Ophera and Brak – so many people. Even Talk and Ethlan and the Lords and Ladies Betchem and Camber and Sunder – can you understand? And it all started – here on Brethsham – with you, my Lord.  
...............“I can not tell you how I feel, but I hope you can _feel_ how I feel… _thank you!”_

“You and Mozzie are the most interesting people I have ever known – with the possible exception of the Chiri who are more habitually secretive than either of you! – and as I keep telling you and will keep telling you until you believe me – I am just as grateful to you for being my sons!”

“Mmm,” Neal nodded, leaning against the Lord even more heavily.

Lord Steel looked down and shook his head slightly. The journey through both their early lives had been …draining…even on someone who was used, a little, to such experiences. Neal had the worse memories to relive, and had never had the opportunity to do what they had just shared before. In a way it was as though they had revisited all the joy and trauma of their combined seasons till that point! He must be weary!

He gathered Neal in his arms, glad that, though he might not be a child he was still a small species compared to Steel’s! – and carried him over to the bed and placed him as gently as possible on the side of the bed in which Steel didn’t sleep, thinking of the man who had once carried a small child to bed when he had fallen asleep elsewhere, soft rounded limbs and dimpled knees instead of well-tones muscles, sad that the family had been torn apart, sad that the father-son bond had been cut short.

Wondering if that man was still alive after the wars, he removed Neal’s house boots and covered him with the soft coverings and lifted his head a little, remembering that Neal used a very thin pillow and providing him with one.

When Steel returned after a quick shower, Neal had obviously managed to surface briefly and had tossed off his clothes in a very un-Neal-like fashion onto the floor! Steel collected them and folded them onto the chair and made himself ready for bed. He climbed under the covers, not thinking that Neal would waken.

But Neal lifted his head a little and said, “My Lord? Mind you not that I sleep here?”

“No, or I would have dragged you back to your room, or at least thrown you out of the door into the corridor, Neal!”

“Haha,” mumbled Neal. Then, “You did not follow my memories all the way here, my Lord, but to be fair – it was me that hid the lump of meat in the flour!”

“Yes, son. I have known that for a long while. Go to sleep and dream sweet dreams. And again – thank you.”

 

To Steel’s surprise, when he woke, Neal was gone. He stretched and then lay and remembered, seeing the tall, good-looking, blue-eyed man with the thick, well-trimmed hair and the uniform, who seemed so tall and special to baby Neal.

_I know not if you live or sleep, father of Neal, but I will do my best by your son, I swear to you. And, since I am making new oaths, I swear the same to that man and woman who left little Mozzie on the step of a child-sanctuary. What you all missed!_

_And would my two sons have been braver, stronger, even more brilliant with loving, supportive families – or would they have been weak, selfish, ungrateful?_

_I had better be up and exercising Harmony before the morning meal, for I will not have time otherwise!_

 

He wondered where Neal had gone so early.

Neal strode down the corridors an hour before, singing to himself. He was showered and dressed – he really didn’t enjoy sleeping without showering beforehand, but he had been exhausted by the exercise with his Lord. When he awoke, however, if felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from him. The secrets he’d never shared with anyone, ever, were now handed to the alien he trusted most and that man still loved him, even saw good in his darkest deeds.

He thought a moment. Mozzie would be asleep, if he was here. If he was on Earth…well… _who knows? I’ll risk it!_

He jumped and it was evening in Italy and Mozzie and Sally were sitting by the fire reading, Mozzie with a glass full of wine, Sally with a cup of hot chocolate. Neal laughed.

“What is so funny, Neal?” Mozzie asked, looking up.

“This is such a domesticated scene! Two criminals – retired, at least for the night!”

Sally chuckled. “It was a busy day. Would you like some hot chocolate?”

“Not too sweet? Touch of cayenne?”

“As you wish.”

He fixed the fire – Mozzie had said to him once that the worst thing about becoming an expert, you could only see the flaws in another’s work! – and it seemed as though fire-setting was just the same as oils or sculpture!

Once he’d finished the drink, Mozzie finished the chapter he was studying, slipped a book-mark in place and put his book down. “Did you just want to hang out or did you want something, Neal?”

“Just a couple of things. I know I have said it before, Moz, but I am _so sorry_ I ever treated you less than my best. And thank you for taking me on as a student and friend when I was pretty raw – both as an artist and a human being!”

“Yeah – I made a great deal of money from our partnership. I think we’re even, kid! You’re waa-ay too introspective sometimes!”

“I just wanted to – well, can we go to June’s for a half-hour? It’ll be what – morning there?”

“Yeah. Important?”

“No,” said Neal, thoughtfully. “No, I don’t think it’s important. And that’s a really important thing. Because you’re my friends, it’s not really important.”

Mozzie glanced at Sally and quoted, “ ‘A true friend is someone who thinks that you are a good egg even though he knows that you are slightly cracked.’ ”

She chuckled her deep chuckle. “You want me to come along, Neal?”

“Yes.”

They stood and jumped. The light in the studio was fine, clear, beautiful. “It’s only like this when the air is very cold, and the sun is winter white, and there is enough snow on the ground.” Neal remarked dreamily. “I must paint!  
..............“I wonder where June is?”

There was a brief knock and June walked in the door. “I heard you talking,” she said.

“But that’s impossible, isn’t it? We’ve only just arrived.”

“I wanted to share a few things. It isn’t important.”

“Because we’re friends, it isn’t important,” Mozzie elucidated for June.

She nodded and smiled her little, tight, impish smile. “He’s right, though, Mozzie.” and then _she_ quoted: “ ‘Some people you meet and they're your friend for a day. Some you meet and you never really know at all. And then there are those who get caught inside your soul and stay there forever.’ ”

“Are we here for a quote-off?” Neal grinned, happily, as they, by mutual consent, found chairs and pulled them round to form a circle.

“You brought us, you get to choose!” Sal told him, kindly.

Neal nodded. “I should. I – I went to our Lord and told him to read me.”

“Why? Sally asked, while Mozzie just looked with his eyebrows at the highest range of motion they could manage.

“So that I could go and see Aramalitha.”

Mozzie’s eyebrows came down. “It’s always love that makes him do these things…sometimes he’s not sure it’s love yet, but he still does them.”

“It’s a good reason, really, better than most,” Sally told him, and Mozzie made a face but then smiled when she looked disappointed.

“You’re right, Sally.”

“As a trial run for her possibly reading you?” June asked. “And?”

“He’s the only one I trust that has the same type of empathy and could do it to me – for me. We didn’t get all that far. I thought he’d read me, I’d sit there, and then we’d discuss what he’d seen of me.  
..............“It wasn’t like that. It was like living inside a split-screen, two biographical documentaries going on at one time, but sensurround: light, sound, smell, touch, feelings and all.” He looked up and saw that he’d confused them! “I experienced all my life – up to a point, as if it was happening, and quickly – and all of his – up to a point.”

Mozzie did not know what had happened in Neal’s childhood. He knew there were yawning traps and bare live wires and twisted nerves there. Neal had shared just a few things and only when circumstances demanded they be shared. June, on the other hand, had been told almost nothing, but her love and compassion gave her a better window on Neal’s soul than Mozzie’s genius gave him. Her eyes widened a little. Sally just loved his friendship and fun, and didn’t need to know anything more.

Neal glanced round at their expressions and read them all expertly, and grinned a little. “It was intense. And I didn’t expect to see _his_ life, and he didn’t need to show me.”

Mozzie waved a finger, “ ‘Relationships are all about trust and equality. If one person shares, then the other person should share, too.’ ”

“Well, that’s what he thought, too. And you’ve all been closer to me for longer, so I just thought I should give you the highlights…we didn’t just see the highlights, we saw every little detail of every day of each other’s lives, but only the main events seem relevant.”

Neal then sat and bared his soul to his closest friends, as he had to his father and Lord. At the end of the short recital – for he kept it as short as possible – he just sat and looked over Manhattan and waited.

June leaned over and took his hand and squeezed it and said, “Love you. Wish your childhood had been filled with butterflies and balloons and wishing wells, but if all that was necessary to make you who you are, I’m glad, Neal, since you survived it.”

“That’s why you don’t like guns?” from Sally.

“Quite a few reasons. They’re so…clumsy. Brute force, no finesse!”

“Inartistic?”

“Exactly!”

“’Steve’ and ‘Tabernacle’.”

“Yeah. Kind of felt I was honouring them.”

“Collecting family.”

Neal smiled a little. “Mmm. P’raps. Didn’t have anyone. Then I found you, Mozzie, hence the thanks earlier.” He looked up and studied them all again. “No judgement? No criticism?”

They glanced at each other. June said, “You did the best you could at the time. You had to survive, you survived. Then you developed the best that was in you.”

“I am now and always have been so proud of you, Neal.” Mozzie waved his hands as though he’d said it often enough – _enough!_

Sally frowned and Neal braced himself. “How is it,” she asked, “that you weren’t **_angry?”_**

“Oh, Sally, I was! I kept it locked away, I wouldn’t let it show. Anger and guilt. Neither of them were good for my …” he looked at her and grinned, “…avatar.”

She grinned back. “Yeah. I see. You hid those and oozed charm and confidence and easy-goingness.”

“More flies with honey than vinegar!”

“If you’re entering that in the quote-off, I object!” Mozzie told him.

“So none of you have anything to say about my childhood.”

“Well, I don’t know if it’s worse having a mother and father and then losing them in weird ways, or never having anyone,” Mozzie mused. “I had the advantage that I was never confused by facts! I could imagine anything!”

“’Six impossible things before breakfast’!” Sally nodded. “He still does that, but likes to turn them into possible things and is bright enough to do so!”

“I preferred the ’Looking Glass’ to ‘Wonderland’,” June mused.

“When I met you, I was too busy thinking of how to keep you,” Mozzie told Neal, “but I could have quoted, ‘There's not a word yet, for old friends who've just met.’ ”

“You weren’t just after my skills?” Neal teased. “And I believe that’s a _Muppet_ quote?”

“True nonetheless! And yeah, of course! – but very soon I realised that I had found a friend, and that had never happened before. All the others – other than Mr Jeffries – had been partners in crime, acquaintances, trusted because I had to and to a limited extent, but friends in no way.”

“ ‘Wishing to be friends is quick work, but friendship is a slow ripening fruit’, ” Sally said, putting up an eyebrow.

“Oh – Sally! _Aristotle!”_ Mozzie exclaimed, proudly.

“Definitely raising the tone, my dear!” June smiled.

Mozzie grinned. “ ‘What's friendship's realest measure?  
I'll tell you. The amount of precious time you'll squander on someone else's calamities and fuck-ups,’ – sorry June and Sally, I merely repeat…the words.”

The others shook their heads. “Richard Ford,” Mozzie told them.

“Bascombe,” Neal nodded.

“Very true when it comes to my friendship with you, Neal, though I always feel you are learning from all your miring.”

“Being in mires?”

“Yes.”

“I think we are at a disadvantage, June,” Sal said. “These two read prodigiously and remember ridiculous details!”

“Hmm, let’s not give up without a tussle! – how about, ‘Friendship is unnecessary, like philosophy, like art.... It has no survival value; rather it is one of those things which give value to survival.’”

“Oh, June, that is lovely. Lewis – but I think you must win, it’s very fitting in our circle, is it not?” Neal asked.

“Well, if you want apropos, dear,” June went on, “Then: ‘Close friends are truly life's treasures. Sometimes they know us better than we know ourselves. With gentle honesty, they are there to guide and support us…’ um, I think it goes, ‘…to share our laughter and our tears. Their presence reminds us that we are never really alone,’ and ‘Love is friendship set to music.’ ”

“Oh, _yes!_ Van Gogh and Pollock! Great memory, June!” Mozzie was excited. He loved intelligence in others.

“Byron wrote down artist’s sayings on the back of his work sometimes – the practice pieces. Helped him get inside their heads. Though he never tried Pollock seriously.”

“You win!” Mozzie said, got up and went over to kiss her. “But on another subject entirely, quotes for right now: ‘It is more fun to talk with someone who doesn't use long, difficult words but rather short, easy words like "What about lunch?” ’ and ‘Good friends, good books, fine wine and a sleepy conscience: this is the ideal life.’”

“You mix A.A. Milne with Samuel Clements…and the Clement’s quote is enlarged by the volume of a bottle of fine wine!” Neal complained, his heart happy.

“Not enlarged, merely, but improved!” Mozzie told him, waving his hands. “I am sure it merely slipped his mind at the time!”

“I think we can do lunch!” June told him. “With wine! Come downstairs, children!”  
She held Neal back, pulled him down and kissed his cheek. They could hear Sally and Mozzie discussing some of Byron’s work hanging on the wall of the staircase. June whispered, “ There’s another Milne quote I want you to write on that impressionable artistic heart and never, never forget again, Neal.” She waited till he raised his eyebrows and nodded, then went on, “ ‘Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.’”

Neal hugged her to himself tightly. “You have a lovely voice, you are a national treasure – sorry! An intergalactic treasure! But more than that you are my unique and special love, June, and always will be!”

“Likewise. And I am going to take the elevator!”

 

 

 

 

The End of Chapter 37.

 

I expect at last the same number of comments as those lovely quotes!


	38. No Romance for Neal!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal journeys to Laffaysham feeling very light-hearted and confident...and is surprised.
> 
> Well done, Matt, on your success...you deserved it years ago and deserve much more.

 

 

 

 

Two mornings afterwards Neal, Joster and Merritt were jogging along, and this time instead of the wagon they had a sleigh. All of those at Steel had been confused when Neal had appeared the morning they had left and tied little silver bells all along the traces and along the back with bright red ribbons. He rode listening to the light tinkling of the bells and thinking of the song _A Christmas Miracle **.**_

****

“We are going straight on to Betchem,” Merritt confirmed, “for this presentation-thing.”

 

“Yes,” Neal agreed.

 

“But on the way Laffaysham is not…”

 

“No, but Laffaysham is not on the way to any of the Alliance Keeps. Which is why visited there properly with you I have not. As it is, going to be staying there for very long I am not!” Neal shrugged.

 

He was as happy as he’d ever felt. He smiled almost constantly. His friends and his father knew everything bad he could tell them, he believed, and they all loved him still. Anyone whose opinion counted, that was still in his life, loved him, all of him. He had no major secrets from them. The universe seemed filled with light and it wasn’t just the thick snow and ice on the ground, sparkling like a trillion diamonds in the clear sunlight.

 

They had been making very good time. The horses liked the snow, the sleigh slid almost effortlessly with a silky sound reminiscent of swords gliding gently one off another.

 

“I like travelling,” Neal commented.

 

“Oh, so do I, Neal!” Merritt agreed. “It is a little work in the morning and evening…”

 

“When we break or make camp,” Neal agreed. “And the beds are not so soft and sometimes we are a little cold, or hot…”

 

“But otherwise, there are no tasks other than to remain vigilant!” Merritt finished.

 

“I think that travelling further than we do would be less enjoyable,” Joster noted. “If we had no support, had to carry more food and water and feed. But these journeys are fun. In the right company!”

 

“Thank you, Joster,” Neal grinned. “Ah – I see the smoke rising to the clouds over yonder…”

 

“Yes, that is Laffaysham and her city,” Joster agreed. “Why _are_ we travelling there, Neal?”

 

“For me to make my apologies to the heir and to invite them to Betchem.”

 

“How serious are these apologies?” Merritt asked, hopefully.

 

“I doubt it will come to blows,” Neal grinned sideways at his enthusiastic guard.

 

“Pity. The heir is not as good as I am, probably better than you with the normal swords, and has a very long reach - but I would like to see you in action against him with your rapier and that odd way of fighting you have, Neal!”

 

“Joster! Tell your brother I am a lover, not a fighter!”

 

“We have had the pleasure of seeing you discomfort Jebb, Neal. It was fun!”

 

“It was. I think Thervessalon is not so hot-headed as to talk himself into such a predicament,” Neal commented. “Though I do not know him well.

         “And there are many reasons not to alienate my large cousin and his whole Keep!”

 

“Yes, Neal, we know – the fair Aramalitha!” Merritt chuckled.

 

Neal slewed round and gazed at him. “How do you know of her?”

 

“We went to Laffaysham, you were happy, then we came back, you were not, though you smiled all the more, and then you painted that portrait and left Sir Mozzie to send it off…and now we ride to Laffaysham and you are lit from within like a thousand light-bugs are showing off, Neal!” Joster grinned at him. “We are your men, we are close to you, and we care about you!”

 

“You are what my original planet calls stalkers! You follow me and find out all sort of information about me!”

 

“Yes,” Joster agreed. “We know how you like your tea. We know your favourite colours. We know which horses you most like to ride. We know how warm you like your bedroom when you sleep and how warm you like your studio when you paint. We know your friends and what they like. It is what servants do so they can always ensure their master’s comfort, to make his life as effortless as possible.”

 

Neal just stared at him. “I am not sure whether that is a pleasant thought, or completely unnerving. I also know that Mozzie is right not to give in and have a man of his own!”

 

“Yes. We know little about Sir Mozzie. He deliberately changes the things he likes so no-one can keep a record of them, other than the lady who seems to act like his wife and be his wife but is not called his wife!” Joster shook his head. “And she is unusual in her own way.”

 

Neal started to laugh. “That is my Mozzie!” he agreed.

 

 

 

They were ushered with great politeness into the Greatroom at Laffaysham. Neal told the three liveried slaves that he wished to see the Lord and Lady and the first heir, Thervessalon, depending on which of them were available.

 

“And can Joster and Merritt take our luggage up to our suite, please, and have some refreshments?”

 

Joster shook his head and Neal looked at him. “You know what I like at all times, Joster? Go, all will be well.”

 

Joster and Merritt exited, not looking happy. Then the first slave came in with Thervessalon, who seemed surprised. “Neal of Steel!” he said. “Thank you for coming in response to my letter!”

 

Neal smiled up at him. “Thank you for writing to me. I had no idea that the Lady Aramalitha felt that our short acquaintance was not satisfactorily resolved. I did not mean to leave the situation in that form. I wrote and thanked her for her kindness and tried, in truth, to let her know that she is far above me.”

 

Thervessalon studied the young heir before him. He, like all Laffays, was trained to see beauty, and certainly this man was beautiful…the line of his jaw, the eyes, the hair, unusually dark, pleasantly curled, nice hands, well proportioned – an artist’s dream model! Despite the unfortunate lack of height, he could see that a woman would find him pleasant to look upon, and Aramalitha was not overly tall, herself.

..........But more – Thervessalon, like all Laffays, had developed his empathy, and this man standing before him was kind and strong, loyal and, in contrast to the time he had come to the Keep Gathering and even to remove the plants, he was comfortable within himself.

 

Neal was not a Laffay, but he could read Thervessalon well, too, and he smiled. “I am sorry about the Lady, sir. I was drawn to her, and only then discovered that she is full Laffay, extraordinarily empathic. My past was painful to me; I did not want to share it and perhaps hurt her. I withdrew.”

 

“What has changed, Neal?” Thervessalon waved him to one velvet-covered chair while he took another.

 

“Firstly, that you tell me she has not put the brief interlude behind her as I hoped she could do. If I knew she was happy and contented without me, I would have moved on. I had also – erroneously, I now believe – thought that such empathy would make her more sensitive and hurt by seeing my past.

.......“And, to tell you the truth, try as I might, I have not forgotten her.”

 

The tall Laffay studied him, and Neal dropped his shields accommodatingly. He knew that Thervessalon did not read much, but saw his honesty when it came to his thoughts about Aramalitha.

 

“My parents are coming from the back greenhouses, Neal. I think I will suggest that you speak to Aramalitha for yourself. She is young, but not still a child. You are an honourable gentleman. We will let you see what comes of your relationship, I think.”

 

“Thank you, Thervessalon.”

 

“I merely tell you what I read of you, Neal,” he grinned a little.

 

“I have an invitation for you and however many Laffays should wish to attend. We are having a…celebration of sorts at Betchem. The Lord and Lady have kindly agreed to host it as they are central and have a lovely large entertaining area.” He dug out the beautifully scripted invitation from his inner pocket and handed it to the heir.

 

Thervessalon said, a little surprised. “We are leaving for Betchem, about ten of us, within three days. This is for a couple of tendays after that!”

 

“Oh! I knew not that my father,” Neal couldn’t help smiling as he said that, “had asked others to attend. He must be meaning to surprise me!”

 

“I hope I have not spoiled the surprise!”

 

“I think I would rather be aware that the gathering may be a little bigger than I supposed! My father is given to odd teasing!”

 

“Your love is very obvious,” Thervessalon said, and Neal considered it a little unusual for this level of openness about emotions between men – but then, this was a Keep of Extreme Sensitives!

 

“I try not to hide it. He is, to me, one of the most special of men!”

 

Thervessalon smiled and they both stood as a small group of slaves entered and Lord and Lady Laffaysham followed. Of the Alliance Keeps, the Laffay’s seemed the tallest and most slender! Cambermen were a little stouter and shorter than average (perhaps not surprisingly, Neal thought), Sunderites were stocky and shorter, Betchemen were almost as tall, but broader.

 

_I have to find a lady at a Keep sure to give me a permanent crick in my neck!_

Thervessalon swiftly explained Neal’s visit to his parents, sharing with them his own empathic observations in the same rapid communication. The Lord and Lady turned to Neal and the Lady said, in her sweet, clear voice, “What would you with Aramalitha, Neal, son of Steel?”

 

“My Lord and Lady Laffay, I merely wish to see if I can help her feel happier with our parting or, failing that, see if there is something worth developing between us…developing, hopefully, into a close and meaningful relationship that would lead to marriage – if it would be pleasing to her.”

 

“And, Son of Steel and frequent ignorer of conventions,” the Lord added with a smile, “pleasing to her Lord and Lady and family?”

 

“I would like that to be the case, Lord Laffay,” Neal told him. “But I am a thief. Always have been, always will be. If I am sure that we will suit, that her heart is mine, I shall steal the rest from you without compunction.”

 

“And start a Keep War?” Lady Laffay asked, her words drained of menace by her slight smile.

 

“If the Alliance Keeps were rent asunder by a war caused by star-crossed love, my Lady Laffay – think of the beautiful and romantic paintings, tapestries and sculptures that it would generate!” He twinkled at her and the Laffays laughed.

 

“On a more genial note than potential war, we are invited to Betchem just after mid-winter,” Thervessalon told them. “A bigger contingent than the more immediate visit. A celebration.” He handed them the invitation, which the Lord read.

 

“This is an unusual request, Neal.”

 

“Oh, I seldom do anything usual, Lord!”

 

“I am beginning to wonder if I should support this meeting…but, as you say you will steal the lady anyway…Sanjala, go, fetch the Lady Aramalitha away from her lessons! Tell her to come as she is, I think not it will matter to this outlander!” He looked sideways at Neal.

 

The three of them sat, surrounded at a little distance by the servants of the Laffay nobles, speaking meaningless inconsequentialities for a few minutes until quick, light footfalls could be heard approaching. Neal stood, ignoring the others.

 

Aramalitha entered the room saying, “My Lord and Lady? I was told to come quickly…” She stopped. She was dressed in wrapped trews, a cross-over top, had obviously been doing something strenuous, her fair hair was bundled atop her head and many tendrils had escaped to curl about her face. Her eyes became huge as she looked across at Neal.

 

Neal drank her in…and smiled at her.

 

With a small, almost desperate cry she ran across the vast expanse of pretty, glossy marble and threw herself at him. He engulfed her in love and warm, strong arms, and she cuddled up against him and murmured, “You came to me. I thought I was still imagining you coming to me!”

 

“I did. As soon as I knew you were sad to be apart and I could.”

 

“I thought you did not want to be with me.”

 

“I did not want to hurt you.”

 

“I do not hurt now, Neal, son of Steel.”

 

“Will you come away with me?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Neal laughed at her, and they leaned apart a little so they could see each other’s faces. “You are a treasure, and I already told your Lord and Lady that I would steal you if I must – and I am glad you are willing to come with me if any obstacles arise, with or without our Keeps’ permission! But I think you might want some time, a pretty wedding.”

 

“No.”

 

“Aramalitha!” Lady Laffay objected. “This is Laffaysham Keep! We indulge in the most beautiful and lavish and extravagant weddings!”

 

“I know, my Lady, but they take so long to prepare! I have already waited long enough for my Neal.”

 

“If you insist, I shall throw you over my horse’s pommel and ride away with you…but I think your parents might like to meet me first? You might like to pack a few unmentionables, a change of shoes? Is it not done to send out notifications of a union?”

 

She pouted. “Do not turn into someone who does what is done!”

 

“I merely wish to keep your family and Keep as friends, should we ever decide to visit for a holiday! I wish to study the other glorious things here…other than you, darling! The flowers and the paintings, the architecture and the views. I shall elope with you forthwith if you decide we should do so, but we should at least discuss our life-plans, think you not?”

 

“Pooh! You know that we knew each other long before we met, Neal! Why think you that I grieved so?”

 

“I look at my image in the mirror and sure of why I am not! You have met tall, artistic, skilled men from all the Keeps, Brethsham men…I am a alien with alien ways.”

 

“No. Everyone else is more alien to me than you are.”

 

“I had not read the poetry of Laffaysham, but I see you are well-versed in it?” He grinned at her. It seemed impossible not to smile!

 

“I speak nothing but the truth! If there is poetry in it, that is the poetry of truth you hear!”

 

“Shall we speak to the powerful nobles standing by, think you?” Neal asked her, whispering.

 

“I suppose we must, though I would rather talk to you and look at you and learn all about you!”

 

“We have a lifetime, have we not?”

 

She sighed and cuddled up to him.

 

They stood that way for twenty breaths and then she stood back, shook her hair and faced her Lord and Lady. “We are willing to be together, if you have no objections, my Lord and Lady?”

 

“Yes, I wondered when we would get to the formalities, Aramalitha,” Lord Laffay smiled at her.

 

“It _is_ merely a formality, my Lord. Neal and I need to get to know each other just a little more, that is all. We wish your blessing and that of my dear Caerrovon.”

 

“And if we withhold it, daughter, since he is an alien, short and dark and unknown, from a strange and unknown world, and a thief to boot…though honest enough to tell us so!...then, daughter?”

 

“Then we will do without it,” she said, calmly. “I am sure my husband to be is quite clever enough a thief to breach the Castle and take me if I am constrained.

.......“Or,” she added thoughtfully, “I will find my own way out and join him. It matters not.”

 

Neal’s eyebrows rose. He had a flash of himself walking out of SuperMax, and grinned. So much for his delicate Laffay flower!

 

 

 

Neal hadn’t planned this reunion…he hadn’t even been sure that a reunion was possible! Aramalitha might have just cried and thrown things and then Thervessalon might have just thrown him out of Laffaysham, never to return! Since Aramalitha had arrived, all his vague ideas had been inverted, shaken and tipped out randomly like pick-up-sticks or Mozzie’s traditional I Ching yarrows! He was quite happy with the outcome, it was just a sudden change to his thinking!

 

When he eventually found himself alone with her, after they had both had a chance to clean up and change, she was wearing the palest lemon-yellow gown, they were seated on a bench overlooking a flower-garden.

He said, a little hesitantly, “Litha, dear, was it necessary to be quite so melodramatic? I quite see the romance in flying across the room and into my arms, please think you not that I appreciated it not, but should we not have spoken further before declaring yourself?”

 

She turned and gazed at him and her lovely, triumphant smile faded. “But Neal – there is precious little romance in Laffaysham. If you wanted romance, you should have chosen a Sunderite woman!”

 

He thought of Lady Sunder and her ladies-in-waiting and shook the horrid image of that romance out of his head! “The Sunderites are romantic and the Laffays are not?”

 

“You think because we love to create beauty we are romantic? No, no, exactly the opposite!”

 

Neal thought that he looked as perplexed as he felt, and that it was not romantic at all to look as though ice-water had been thrown over him. And then the nasty thought intruded that though they were out of the Lord and Lady’s sight, if they were that empathic they could probably feel and hear every word and emotion!

 

“Yes, emotions, but they would not,” Litha said, calmly. She tipped her head on one side and asked. “Am I misunderstanding? No – for romance means for you what it means for me. Pleasant in silly novels to wile away an afternoon, but totally impractical - and in real life for feather-heads, am I wrong?”

 

Neal said nothing, eloquently. If she could read his thoughts, good luck to her!

 

Litha tried again. “Romance involves the idealisation of something…in this context the man or woman of a dream.”

 

Neal nodded slowly. “Or a chivalrous quest for some perhaps unobtainable goal…”

 

“And therefore, we can never be romantic, Neal! I am so very sorry!”

 

Light dawned. “Because you can read me?”

 

“Yes. As can you. So we see reality, not an unrealistic perfection.”

 

“But – so you know – everything?”

 

“No, silly man, it would take a long time and may not be your wish for me to know everything that has happened to you! But we all read each other’s _characters!_ In the eyes, the stance, the aroma of another we find character and at least some of the personality.”

 

“Oh.”

 

“You just liked me for my eyes, my figure, Neal?”

 

Neal pulled himself together. “No, of course not! I was attracted to you because of your sweetness, your genuine smile, your lack of affectation.”

 

“Yes, because you read people more exactly than do most humans.”

 

“I think you are right, Litha! So the Laffay’s all do this naturally?”

 

“Laffay’s and some with Laffay blood. Caerrovon has not inherited a high level of empathy but he chooses his slaves using it, and has a successful, cooperative Keep, does he not?”

 

“Yes. Yes, he does.”

 

“You did not imagine things about me that now I must correct, I do not think. I certainly did not imagine things about you. We are suited because _we_ _are suited_ , not the romanticised versions of ourselves.”

 

“So at Laffay you paint and sculpt because you see the inner beauty – or danger - ”

 

“Sometimes. Some of the art here shows or tries to show what lurks beneath the surface. Sometimes we concentrate on the outer shapes, the outer beauty because otherwise we get lost in the unseen characteristics, those we see without our eyes, for they are far more real and more important than the outer shell, though eventually they reform it. Painting and sculpting …ground us, you say? Force us to concentrate on those things that are all other humans see.”

 

“So, Litha - so you know my character and l-like me?”

 

She smiled and her eyes sparkled and he caught his breath. Sometimes the outer beauty was quite enough to cause him to feel lost in it! “Neal, I could list your characteristics, which of course are unique and of course pleasing to me. When you left me I thought I was either mistaken, or that there was some other impediment. But when I saw you standing there, and when you smiled with all your heart…”

 

“So you know I am a thief?”

 

“I know that the conventions mean little to you. You wish for freedom, beauty, everything that is pleasing. Most people will not admit to such a simple human desire! They are not honest. I also know you will do what it takes to get these pleasing things and share them with friends, but that you would rather live without any of them than hurt someone…do you say a by-stander? Oh, I see – yes, some innocent standing in the way of what you wish?”

 

“Y-yes, I think I could say you are correct. You do not think me greedy or – or – lazy – or anything bad to want everything pleasing?”

 

She smiled. “Now we _are_ talking of foolish romance, are we not? I have heard people – one of the Earthlings that was here used to do so! – say that it was wrong to wish for an easy life, a rich life. That is foolishness in the extreme! Because if he truly believed that, he would have gone and lived in one of the old tenant houses on the next estate, and he could have been good in his own eyes to a vast degree and enjoyed the rain dripping through the slats and the snow as a covering and the dirty, bare walls. My Lord would not have stopped him, so long as he washed before reporting for work! If he was ill, he certainly availed himself of the apothecary’s herbs, though he would not be in contact with the Chiri.

         “He did not wear ragged clothes or drink dirty water or eat last week’s food! Yet he insisted that he was good because he did not – pray? Is that the word? – for the best of everything. He idealised a life of poverty, sickness and ugliness, yet did not try and achieve it! He did not like it here at Laffaysham where we love beauty and good food…we sold him to Sunder. I hope he found that more to his liking.” She was thoughtful.

 

“And what was _his_ character?” Neal couldn’t help but ask, amused by her artless recital.

 

“Confused, Neal, very confused.”

 

They laughed together. Then Neal asked, “I am not Laffay-empathic, Sweet One, though I have some intuition, some instincts. Do you believe from what you know of me that we can make each other happy?”

 

“Yes, Neal, of course. Trust me, beloved!”

 

“It seems odd to me: knowing someone at a glance. I shall have to get used to it I suppose. And – I asked my Lord to experience my past so I would not be afraid to share with you. There are dark and sad episodes in it, but share it with you I shall.”

 

She cuddled up to him. “I know who you are now, this minute. You are more stable than you were before. Less secretive? And I know you are not Laffay, I know you are not even from Brethsham. I shall be as patient as you need as you discover me little piece by little piece.”

 

Neal turned and nibbled the lobe of her ear and she giggled. “I shall start on this little piece right here,” he said, and his warm breath on her ear made her close her eyes and lean towards him, desire melting her entire body like an internal flame. “I am sorry if I will make you wait till I am sure. I believe it will not take me too long. My instinct is to marry you now, tonight! – but that may be my hormones talking, and not my heart. You are beautiful to me and your essence, your fragrance is like a thousand flowers on a fresh breeze in the springtime.”

 

“You are very sweet to me, my Neal.

.......“I think I can wait. You are very clever and you will learn swiftly - and the truth is, we _will_ suit. It is not only my estimation, but my Lord and Lady and good Thervessalon would not have given me to you if they believed it not.”

 

“I have you as a gift, have I? On a pros?” He said the last in English, not knowing if Brethsham had an equivalent.

 

“Checking the merchandise for flaws?” she asked, mischievously, and he laughed. It was odd to feel her pick meanings for English words out of his thoughts, but very useful!

 

“I feel there are no flaws ignore I can not!

.......“And I think it would be kind to speak to your parents, now, Love? Surely they will wish to know that you are considering marriage? Even if it is to be a little delayed while your alien betrothed catches up to your knowledge?”

 

“Dear Neal, I must learn how different this is for you. I have not been with people from other Keeps very often, you understand. Many of them feel we are…different, it makes them uneasy.

         “Every member of my family is quite aware that I hold you dear and held the hope that you would return tightly in my heart since you left! They are a little tired of me, to be honest! They thought that this weird offworlder was an idiot and did not appreciate their little girl! They even tried introducing me to other men - ”

 

“He is often an idiot when it comes to emotions,” Neal told her ruefully. “I am skilled and intelligent, but that is my weakness – that and not wishing to hurt another, even when it is perhaps the most expedient thing to do!”

 

“ – and those men they introduced me to were all _very_ tall and _very_ fair and _very_ well-connected in other very large and wealthy Keeps!”

 

“Oh, were they?” He started kissing her neck. She hadn’t run into anyone else’s arms – he didn’t think she had! No he _knew_ she had not!

 

“They were! And rich within themselves, also! Lovely voices, good dancers…”

 

“Dance much at that gathering I could not because riding horses I had been and for far too long just before!” he defended himself.

 

“They were not thieves, forgers or any sort of criminal.”

 

“No? How dull you must have found them!”

 

“They had long and exquisitely worded letters of introduction and recommendation from far and wide.”

 

“I could have done the same had I known it was important to your family! I still can. Give me a desk and a few different papers and pens and I shall get started on them immediately!”

 

“They brought me precious stones and metals, furs and embroidered silks by the wagonload.”

 

“Mmmm – we can sell those off and use them for start-up money.”

 

She turned and looked at him. “I am not sure…oh! For a criminal enterprise? Can I play, too?”

 

He held her close and whispered, “Anything, dearest. And I can steal anything you wish. But burden you with unnecessary items I did not wish to do. Make a list and I shall fill it.”

 

She hummed a little. “I just want you.”

 

“That is well, charming Litha, since that is what I brought you. I did not want you to think I was trying to buy your affection.”

 

“I suppose you think that stiff little note you sent me was a soothing good-bye?”

 

“I did not want you to be sorry for me or – or angry with me. I wanted you to find someone else. Well, no, I did not, but I thought that was only fair and right, Sweetheart.”

 

“Are all the men of your planet idiots?”

 

“When it comes to women, yes, I am afraid so. I wonder how gay men ever get past ‘hallo’? The first disagreement would end it, you would think!”

 

“Then you are very blessed you have no objection to being with a woman who can read your emotions, Neal!”

 

“I must consider the implications of that very carefully!”

 

“I shall not tell you when I hear them, if you would rather not. I shall just remember them.”

 

“Now this sounds more like my home planet! Much more!”

 

“What are our plans? Can we leave soon?”

 

“You are so ready to leave everything you know to come with someone you only feel you know?”

 

“Dearest Neal, it is an adventure. And who is the little man with the cute face and lovely eyes…he was here at the Gathering, winning money from other people? I see him as dwelling in a special place within you, and Caerrovon, too.”

 

“His name is Mozzie…or that’s a good start, anyway! Perhaps the Mozzie place is the one place you should not go, my Sweet. He likes his privacy more than most people. So that door is closed.”

 

“I would like to meet him. He brings light to you. But I will not read him other than the way all humans read other humans, since you say he would prefer that.”

 

“Saying that he is not to be read did not want you to immediately find out everything about him?”

 

“No, of course not. It is important to you to keep him secret because it is important to him, and he is your friend, so of course not.”

 

“Well, that is different from Earth!”

 

“Come. They are asking us to join them at the Centre of the Keep.”

 

She walked with Neal through the tastefully carved doors, and he suddenly had a flashback to that night with all the police and Marshals at his house that he had recently shared with his Lord: everyone seemed huge and he felt totally lost – for a second or two. Then he and Aramalitha were surrounded by happy, smiling people, all hugging them, patting their shoulders, some just nodding, some saying in soft voices how delighted they were.

 

 _“It’s like wandering into a very friendly, very quiet, very tall and blond crowd of Italians!”_ Neal thought, amused. It seemed to be an instant party: food was being passed round, and obviously many of the communications between the Laffays were taking place without words, just as Caerrovon had shown himself doing with his mother! They looked at each other, one would smile and then the other would smile without a word passing audibly between them.

 

Thervessalon came up and handed Neal a glass of something, and said, “We promise to try and remember to speak aloud to you, new brother!”

 

Neal, clinging just a little tightly to his…betrothed?...since he might need help, whispered to her, “They seem to have accepted our union.”

 

“You are feeling pressured.” Her eyes were worried, scanning his.

 

He managed a smile. “I believe it is what I want, do not fear, but it is happening a little fast. I expected more debate, more time to have to pass…”

 

“I see. I can tell them go and come back in a fifty-day?” she grinned.

 

He glanced round. “Bet you can _not!”_

 

“Probably not! They are very happy.”

 

“Did they expect to have their ugly daughter on their hands for the rest of her life?” he asked, with feigned innocence, which of course she saw through and laughed.

 

“I have been a little miserable, Neal. They are very pleased that I now have what I want.”

 

“Are you that sure, Litha?”

 

“That sure, Neal.

.......“Do women usually need a great deal of coaxing, many presents and long poems, songs beneath their balconies and discussions with your family before they want to know you better?”

 

She saw his amusement, saw the feelings he had and laughed. “Ah! And – er – you are telling me that because we are merely betrothed _we_ are moving the relationship along very fast!”

 

“I – it is my culture, at this present age, for men and women to enjoy…” he didn’t quite know how to say this in a mixed company that could hear his emotions, but she nodded. “I understand. It seems _very_ enjoyable, what you feel about them. I shall look forward to it!”

 

Neal flushed a little and she said, “Do not apologise for being an alien, Neal! It is a part of your allure!”

 

Suddenly a couple were standing in front of them, and Aramalitha tugged Neal’s arm and said, “This is my mother and father, Neal!”

 

“And this is the son of Steel who upset our daughter so!” Litha’s father said.

 

“I am sorry, Sir – I did not mean - ”

 

“Yes, I quite understand. Look around you, Neal. We are a strange people, we share our emotions and feelings, which sometimes seem to be the same as sharing thoughts, though it works in a different manner to the Tassin and their thought-sharing.”

 

Neal nodded, not quite knowing what this man wanted of him.

 

“You see, and you are not startled?” Litha’s father insisted.

 

“It is different, Sir, to my homeworld, or, in truth, to any of the other Keeps I have visited. But you all seem happy…”

 

“You may never be able to share with us as we share with each other,” Litha’s mother pointed out. “But we will try and remember to talk audibly to you…we _do_ , we have to share numbers and plans that are void of emotion, for example. My name, and you may use it, is Aramathessia, and my husband is Lithatherion.”

 

“Thank you,” Neal nodded.

 

“The point my wife is making,” Lithatherion went on, “is that when you were here at the Gathering we seemed different, is it not so?”

 

Neal nodded, realising that _that’s_ what had been bothering him!

 

“Well, the other Keeps find us a very odd bunch!” Aramathessia started.

 

“So we pretend to be just like them if we are with them,” Lithatherion smiled. “It is bad enough that we are artists - ”

 

“And musicians - ” his wife put in.

 

“ – and breed light-bugs and fire-bugs, living beings that help us and other Keeps in so many ways - ”

 

“ – and blow glass that seems like magic!”

 

Neal burst in on this tennis-match of a conversation being batted back and forth between Litha’s parents as though they were identical twins, “I should so enjoy that! I love blown glass – and I love your fire-bugs and light-bugs! How did you learn about them?”

 

“When you stop talking, be calm and peaceful and just feel you learn many things,” Aramathessia assured him.

.......“Oh, someone wants music for a dance…can you dance, Neal?”

 

“A little. I am not an expert even with most of the dances of my own planet, but I am not shy to learn – with the right partner,” he smiled at Litha. “But – before I do…Aramathessia and Lithatherion …do you not need to ask me some questions, find out a little about me?”

 

“Our cousin Caerrovon chose you, first as a slave and then as a son and heir…that speaks volumes in your favour, Neal,” Lithatherion started, and this time Neal wasn’t surprised when it was Aramathessia that continued, “And our daughter is a very strong Empath and knew more or less immediately – once she spent a little time alone with you, away from the,” she made a motion with her hand to indicate the emotional noise of crowd, “that you were right for her.”

 

“Oh!”

 

“It must be difficult, Neal,” Lithatherion said with a smile. “We do have other mixed marriages…your father’s parents had one, but his mother was closer to the Lord and Lady’s family of the day and there was an element of convenience in that all the Alliance Keeps wished to strengthen the bonds between us… _but_ Caerralissia and Toridlin loved each other, as did Lithalialista and Thedlywin, the old Lord of Betchem, father to the present Lord. We could never force anyone into marriage, it would be torture!

.......“Hopefully you will adapt quickly.”

 

“Hopefully, Sir!” Neal agreed. “I know you to be correct about my Lord’s parents. They were very different, he was an emotionally distant man always, finding it hard to show his emotions, so she must have _felt_ his love…and he never recovered from her death, could never love another!

.......“And I expected not to have to learn a new culture here…but I did expect a great deal of resistance to my…proposal.”

 

“Not from me!” Litha exclaimed. “Surely!”

 

“Not from you, Sweet One, if you had forgiven my stupidity about leaving you.”

 

“If the two of you are this sure, it would be foolish to give dissent,” Aramathessia told Neal, blithely, patting his arm. “Let me teach you to dance, son.”

 

“I think my Lord might have warned me about this!” Neal said to Litha, as he was led away. Aramathessia laughed, and Neal said to her, “Yes, he probably thought it would be food for amusement, Ma’am!”

 

 

It was a wonderful evening! There was food, not excessive amounts, but each little dish was full of delightful and complementary flavours. None of the Laffays drank very much, and other than the dance-music, and the laughter, it was strangely quiet, since almost all the conversations not involving Neal or any of the slaves who had no empathy, were silent. It did not bother him: at most dances and gatherings on Brethsham or Earth conversations at any distance were lost due to the sheer volume of noise!

_Hell on lip-readers, this, though!_

Joster and Merritt had joined the group…the interactions were much like those at Steel: the Nobility and the slaves interacted as equals, and Neal saw Lord Laffay carrying a tray of snacks just after he recognised Ethryon, who waved across the room and smiled, carrying a similar tray.

 

_I suppose, if one can feel emotions, it would be hard to mistreat another human. Which may in part explain my generous, gentle father._

When Neal was starting to feel tired, he took his leave of the Lord and Lady and heir, as well as Aramathessia and Lithatherion, and Litha herself walked him to his suite, a large set of rooms close to her family’s wing. They stopped at the door and he said, softly, “I am sorry we are not married, Dearest.”

 

“I am also, Neal. Is it so important?”

 

“Yes. Do not shake your curls, Litha! I have not had many sexual partners compared to many men on my planet, but I have had a few. I have been intimate with women after a short friendship.

         “But that – and those women – are in the past. I was in a hurry, there was always something to do, to move towards, we were always in a hurry. Something more important to get to!

.......“I want our relationship not to be in such a hurry! I want it to be the most important thing, the thing that demands time from us, not something to be used to fill in odd little corners!

.......“I realise that you know me better now, perhaps, than I shall ever know you, but let us enjoy each stage of our togetherness to complete fullness. At the moment, though my body wants yours, and I find it awkward to say that to a gentlewoman, but I realise that being …indirect is a waste of time, perhaps!…I wish to relish this knowledge that, short of some disaster, or a change of heart on your part, you are mine. Right now.

         “It seems a miracle!”

 

She smiled at him, and her mouth asked him without words for a kiss, and he was not strong enough to resist _that!_ He took her in his arms, then wrapped his long artist’s fingers around her shapely head, intertwining her ribbons and curls with them, and kissed her deeply, exploring her, delighting in her. He could feel her responses, a half-beat behind his and ended the kiss, laughing against her lips.

“Is that your first proper kiss, Darling?”

 

“Yes, it is, Neal – but not my last, I assure you!”

 

“Go away and leave me to ready myself for bed!”

 

“Hmm…pity,” she told him, took his hand and kissed the palm and, with an impish grin over her shoulder, she left him there.

 

 

 

Joster and Merritt had made the room ready: the bed was turned down as he liked it, there was a bath already drawn – at just the right temperature – and the two brothers greeted him with eyebrows raised.

         “So, Neal, there was no need of swords?” Joster enquired.

 

“None whatsoever! You must have been here with our Lord, why did you not tell me how different it is here, when there are only a few non-Laffays?”

 

“No, Neal, that was something we had never known. Perhaps Brak knows, but we have not been here very often, and always in a crowd, other than the time removing the flowers. It is odd, is it not? They are communicating, but their mouths move not!”

 

Joster pulled Neal’s soft boots and then Neal started to remove his clothing, and Merritt took each item from him and cared for it. After a moment, Merritt said, “She is lovely, your lady, Neal.”

 

Neal’s face lit up. “She is, is she not?”

 

“She is. Not a classic beauty, perhaps, but filled with light. And she loves you.” Joster was watching Neal closely.

 

“Yes, she does. It is not as I expected…I thought I would have to come here and win her.”

 

“You are to be married?”

 

“It seems that way, Joster!” Neal smiled, feeling excitement welling up inside him. “I love her and she says she loves me, and I have no reason to doubt the girl!”

 

“Yes, it is not as though you are wealthy, Neal.”

 

“I am wealthy!”

 

“Not compared to Laffaysham you are not! You have the Signet of Steel, but Laffaysham could buy a hundred Steel Keeps.”

 

“Oh, I see – you say she could not say she loved me for my money! No, I think that no woman has ever said _that_ to me, Litha included!”

 

“You have loved many women, Neal?”

 

Neal groaned. This was not a conversation he’d ever expected to have with some young and rather innocent alien slaves on an alien planet, or he’d have regulated his life better! “I have loved a few, Merritt. Fewer of them loved me.”

 

“Why was that?” Merritt demanded, a little angry on his master’s behalf.

 

Neal grinned. “Well, one was a spy…an assassin. She was using me. On the other hand, she said she loved me later on…but be sure I can not.”

 

“Were they all beautiful, Neal?” Joster asked.

 

“Physically they were all beautiful. I enjoy beauty, you know, and in only one instance was I actually contemplating marriage.” He sighed, then shook off the memory. “Most were beautiful on the inside, too. Most are still friends of mine and I hope they will stay that way.”

 

“You must tell us all about them, Neal!” Merritt urged him.

 

“If I must, I must, but not now! Now I am having a bath and going to sleep to dream of my quite delightful betrothed, who makes me feel as none of them have ever made me feel!”

 

 

 

 

The End of Chapter 38.

 

This story will be ending soon...couple more short bits to the series. Thank you to all who read this far with me and took the time to comment. You made it all worth while.


	39. Laffays, Sleighs and Going to Betchem.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal learns more about Laffaysham, then they journey to Betchem where he gets back together with Mozzie and Steel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Couldn't be more excited about Matt winning The People's Choice Award mostly for White Collar and the Golden Globe for The Normal Heart.. and all the news about his upcoming projects! We love you Matty! May Good Fortune always follow you.

 

 

 

  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
Neal woke the next morning, sheltered in the pretty, comfortable Laffay bed, white with green  
touches. He just lay and wondered what he had ever done to be so favoured, so blessed: The  
most special, loyal friends, a wonderful father who loved him as much as Neal loved him,  
and, as if that wasn’t enough, the most charming, sweet-natured girl he’d ever seen, looking  
into his soul and choosing him.  
  
   
  
He thought back a few years…. It felt like peering into a dark and dingy room, scared of what  
he might find there!  
  
   
  
 _How the heck did I walk upright with all that on my shoulders? Glory, I didn’t feel good_  
 _enough about myself to pick up a paint-brush and do my own work!_  
  
   
  
A line from a long-forgotten song wandered through his mind: “Somewhere in my youth or  
childhood, I must have done something good…”  
  
   
  
There was a light tap on the door and Merritt, bleary-eyed and a little aghast, said, “There is –  
she will not - ” and Litha danced past him, said, blithely, “Blame not Merritt! Wait another  
breath to see you I could not! I was beginning to think it might be a dream!”  
  
   
  
Without further warning, she jumped on the bed just as Neal, with presence of mind most  
people didn’t adequately acknowledge, pulled his feet out of the way and opened his arms.  
She threw her arms round his neck and kissed him soundly on the cheek, then looked back at  
Merritt and suggested, “Neal would probably like some tea, a warm shave, a saddled horse?  
Think of something, Merritt!”  
  
   
  
Merritt gave Neal a helpless look and obediently left, closing the door after him.  
  
   
  
“I am quite sure that normal Laffay protocol this is not!” Neal told her, but she ignored him  
and kissed him on the mouth. The next ten minutes were lost to posterity as they enjoyed the  
taste and feel of each other, the warm actuality of a living, loving body held close.  
  
   
  
“What - ” Neal started, cleared his throat and tried again, “What are you doing here, Litha! I  
do not think your parents, Lord and Lady, brothers, or the heirs would approve! I am hardly  
dressed for company, especially gently raised female company!”  
  
   
  
She pulled away and inspected his well-defined bare chest and shoulders. “I like it! I would  
say you were hardly dressed at all…are you wearing anything under that blanket?”  
  
   
  
Neal took a breath, which wasn’t as easy as it should normally be, but she didn’t wait for a  
reply – luckily! – she went on, “And there is an easy way for them to get rid of their wanton  
girlchild,” she laughed. “Let me marry my love, and I will leave with him forthwith.”  
  
   
  
“No, you will not, for I am staying and going to Betchem with the party from Laffaysham! So  
we are stuck here till they leave.”  
  
   
  
She thought a moment and, even without much empathy, Neal could practically hear her  
thoughts! “Here, darling – what is the normal procedure for two people getting married?” he  
asked.  
  
   
  
“Get permission from everyone, see if anyone objects,” she started, a little dismally, “we have  
that. Then -”  
  
   
  
“Wait, what about my Lord, your cousin Caerrovon Steel of Steel Keep?”  
  
   
  
“Be not silly, Neal! He will be overjoyed! He knew you were coming here to see me, did he  
not?”  
  
   
  
“Yes.”  
  
   
  
“I am assuming he knew you wanted to marry me?”  
  
   
  
“I came here merely hoping to be sure you were happy without me or, failing that, to see if we  
could work towards a relationship. All that was condensed for me by you running into my  
arms!”  
  
   
  
“See the point of doing things slowly I can not…” she was suddenly still.  
  
   
  
“What is it, Litha?”  
  
   
  
“Well, it is widely known that full Laffays, such as myself, tend to live a shortened lifespan.  
Caerrovon’s mother was such a one. It almost seems that it is an exchange: we can see the  
emotions and feelings, but do not live as long. I do not want to waste a breath! I – I thought  
you should know. Uncle Caerrovon’s father was in mourning till he died.  
  
...........“It is not fair to keep that from you.”  
  
   
  
“Yes, that I know. However, there are some mitigating factors, Litha, Love.”  
  
   
  
“Oh?”  
  
   
  
“In your seasons I am younger than you are by a _small_ amount – but in my years, my seasons,  
I am older. And I believe in experience, many winters older…and we do not know all the  
reasons, but our species do not live nearly as long as yours.  
  
         “So if we are fortunate, neither of us will outlive the other by many winters. And I can  
see why full Laffay’s might die prematurely: you use so much energy! I did not see  
Caerralissia as so restless!”  
  
   
  
“You saw that?”  
  
   
  
“I…experienced it. I wanted to see how my Lord felt about my dark past, so that if I should  
see you I would be prepared for any reaction from you, including revulsion. I did think you  
would feel things more…no, with less control?”  
  
   
  
“Fascinating. I thought not that a human could experience anything!”  
  
   
  
“Neither did I, to be honest with you. I expected to sit quietly while your uncle read me, and  
then to discuss my past with him. We both saw my childhood and his simultaneously. It  
was…difficult for me.”  
  
   
  
“My poor love.”  
  
   
  
“Yes, and I shall be poorer by a few volumes of blood if one of your adult male relatives – all  
of whom are taller and have a much better reach than do I and many seasons more weapons  
training! – catch you cuddling in bed with me before even our betrothal is announced!”  
  
   
  
“No. They will do nothing to you while I am by.”  
  
   
  
“You speak the truth! They will probably carry you off before thrusting me through. I am sure  
they think – probably incorrectly! – that you are too delicate a flower to witness such  
wholesale blood-letting.”  
  
   
  
“Rubbish! I am better with a sword than two of my brothers …though, sadly, I have never had  
a chance to kill anyone who intends me or my family harm. And if they tried to do anything to  
you, or to drag me from your side, I would scream. I am very good at screaming. I was  
warned not to do it near our tanks, they were concerned for the health of the breeding stock of  
our light-, fire-, sewer- and other bugs!” She gurgled with delight.  
  
   
  
Neal gazed at her with misgiving, only partly feigned! “Those facts, too, I shall be sure to  
remember!”  
  
   
  
“Would you prefer me to be more romantic? Like women in books? More delicate, helpless  
and in need of your protection?”  
  
   
  
Neal chuckled. “No. Definitely not! But, when there is no great danger nearby, and perhaps  
some onlookers, you can pretend to need the safety of my strong arms. And laugh not at that!”  
  
   
  
“I shall practise looking pathetic, ready to faint with fear!”  
  
   
  
“Yes, the ‘swooning maiden’ is not your natural persona, I feel. Some practice is probably a  
good idea!”  
  
   
  
She half-sat and they smiled at each other. She studied his face, reached out and touched his  
cheek-bone, ran her fingers through his sleep-tousled hair, then traced the line of his lips with  
one small finger-tip, which he kissed.  
  
   
  
“You are very good-looking, very handsome: symmetrical and pleasing in every way to the  
eye. I had not taken note of these facts earlier.”  
  
   
  
“That is possibly the nicest compliment I have ever been given! I will say one thing in return,  
but it is very important: your eyes are the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen, Litha. They  
seem lit from within! The colour is like a liquid gemstone, a jewel we have on my planet, but  
living.  
  
..........“I must go to Sunder and see if it is available at their jewellers.”  
  
   
  
“I so loved the painting you sent me. I had never seen myself that way.”  
  
   
  
“I certainly have never seen myself as you describe me, so love is possibly as blind as they  
say!”  
  
   
  
“Or more acute and perceptive.”  
  
   
  
“You are delightfully cute!”  
  
   
  
“Your other women were good looking in your eyes?”  
  
   
  
Neal thought back over his friends…and an enemy! “They were all good looking. Each of  
them had something lovely about them, but I think that is true of everyone.”  
  
   
  
“Unless they are evil, dark, malevolent,” she argued, shuddering.  
  
   
  
He thought a bit about that. “Not all evil people…well, perhaps to you they _do_ look bad.”  
  
   
  
“My looks please you?” she asked, in a small voice.  
  
   
  
“Your looks enchant me! I could not say you are the prettiest of the women I have loved. You  
are all so very different! But you – from the first time I saw you – seemed to me to be a  
perfect fit for me. And that does sound romantically silly, for I knew you not! But nothing has  
changed that feeling in me.  
  
........“I loved things about the other women. We had fun together, we laughed, we loved. But  
none of them are in my life – nor were they in it for any length of time. I wanted you from the  
moment I saw you, and I would like you to give me whatever part of your life you can. I in  
return will give you what I can.”  
  
   
  
“I suppose I must go then and pretend to be my own person again for a while. Can we at least  
make the announcement of our betrothal at Betchem? There will be good representation of  
the Keeps there!”  
  
   
  
“I have to at least do my father and brother the honour of telling them first!” Neal protested.  
“And, little Litha, I hope you will always remain your own person…but mine as well!”  
  
   
  
“I would have thought if your species live fewer years than do we that you would have found  
methods to expedite these tiresome procedures!”  
  
   
  
“Oh, we have!” Neal exclaimed, with a short burst of laughter, though he immediately  
regretted speaking! As he could have anticipated, her eyes lit up. “Yes, yes, I should have said  
nothing! It is called eloping – basically the throwing you over my pommel and riding off  
without the approval of society – and you can just stop those glitters in your lovely eyes! It is  
very poorly thought of amongst the adults of society! It is definitely not – ever – for the  
children of the noble houses!”  
  
   
  
She dimmed notably, and he wished he could fill her wish and brighten her eyes again. She  
said, “There is no alternative for well-born lovers?”  
  
   
  
“No! Not a single one! Is it not tedious?”  
  
   
  
“Tedious is an insufficient word for what I feel. I thought you not bound by weary traditions  
of two planets! I am disappointed.”  
  
   
  
“I find myself a little disappointed also!” Neal said, making a sad face. “And I promise you,  
in many ways I am not at all conventional and law-abiding, truly! I have many witnesses –  
even court testimony!”  
  
   
  
“You promise?”  
  
   
  
“I absolutely swear! But in just this one thing…and maybe a few others I have not considered  
to anticipate but feel I should leave myself a little leeway…let us keep your parents and my  
father happy? You would not want to find yourself in a position where you can never return  
and enjoy this most pretty of Keeps?”  
  
   
  
She thought a moment, chewing a tendril of hair like a child and forcing Neal to use all his  
considerable will-power not to leap up and hug her! (though he was aided in this resolution  
by his total lack of clothing) – and sighed. “No, I suppose not. I know you have more  
experience of society at large, I will trust you on this. Good-bye! I shall see you at the  
morning meal! Remember to tell me how ravishing I look today as though you have not seen  
me!”  
  
   
  
“I think I can manage that!” Neal bit his lip so he didn’t laugh. “We shall have to pretend!”  
  
   
  
“You are teasing me, or something, I feel your mischief – I shall find a way of getting this  
truth out of you when I have more time!”  
  
   
  
“I _so_ look forward to it, Litha!”  
  
   
  
She gave him what obviously started out as a threatening look, but softened into a loving if  
slightly fatuous smile before whisking herself out of the room.  
  
   
  
He heard her say, “Hallo, Joster, hallo again, Merritt – I shall leave you to look after him!  
Enjoy it, for your exclusivity is about to come to an end!”  
  
   
  
Neal grinned as they mumbled some attempt at polite answers and the door shut behind her.  
His grin remained, even broadened. He had found a girl who trusted him – with almost no  
reason whatsoever that he could understand! – and who explained the need for congruity in a  
con! Mozzie would fall in love with her!  
  
   
  
As he allowed his men to ready him for the day (and it was at times like these that it was good  
to have someone make sure his shirt was correctly tied and his boots were on the right feet!)  
he hoped that Mozzie _would_ love Litha. He had experienced the problem of acquaintances  
getting involved with the wrong people once or twice. Mozzie had never done that to him –  
Sally, his only real passion (human passion!) was almost as special as Litha. He would keep  
Sally as a close friend, companion and partner, if he could, if her relationship with Mozzie  
ever weakened. Would even enjoy her company as a date. But partners could be a blight…he  
thought back. _Elizabeth._ There were times when Elizabeth had not wanted Peter to risk  
himself, hadn’t wanted Neal to risk Peter…  
  
   
  
 _I hadn’t even thought of that aspect of a marriage. That sort of conventional streak in a_  
 _woman wouldn’t have suited me at all! But it seems as though Litha is not going to be an_  
 _anchor! Hmm…wonder if we could use her empathy on a heist! Hmm…._  
  
   
  
After the first meal, during which they both took care to avoid looking at each other with the  
exception of a brief greeting, Litha and Thervessalon took him to see the breeding tanks for  
light-bugs, fire-bugs and other small non-prey species with whom the humans here interacted  
symbiotically. They were huge, glass affairs, what looked like acres of them! As they  
approached, the light-bugs lit up and the fire-bugs glowed a dull orange.  
  
   
  
“They respond to our presence?” Neal demanded of his hosts, elated to find out more about  
these living beings that made the society so green!  
  
   
  
“Yes, we train them as well as breed them,” Thervessalon explained. “You know they  
respond to particular people…your father’s light-bugs, as you call them, will not respond  
easily to you until they come to know you.”  
  
   
  
“So that is how this works…they are all Laffay-empathic!” Neal chuckled. “I know my  
fire-bugs that I use every day I am at home work better for me now I have worked with them  
for a while. I thought I was merely not using them correctly.”  
  
   
  
“No, no…the fire-bugs are trained to never work for a young child, for example, for safety  
reasons. They merely glow as they are doing now.”  
  
   
  
“This is so much more sophisticated than our systems back home! We had what we  
considered a great society, the area I lived…but it was dirty and wasteful and very hard on the  
people, too. I see some cruelties and brutality here – from the Slavers and the way slaves can  
be abused – but there is so much good here, such advancements that help everyone.”  
  
   
  
“Were you badly treated as a slave, Neal?” Litha asked, frowning.  
  
   
  
He glanced across. _Careful, Neal! She’s a wild child! She could go and attack the Slave_  
 _vessels without back-up!_  
  
   
  
“I was, Litha. Not nearly as badly as some, but my friend and I were both whipped severely  
twice and beaten often with sticks and ropes and straps. Almost all of the men, I would guess,  
and a large per cent age of the women were beaten at some point. Then there was the terrible  
food, quite disgusting, and the water as well…it made all of us sick at some time or another,  
and there was no …sanitation. The smell made our eyes water! Most of us had ulcers on our  
legs, backs and backsides from infections. We were shackled, often hand-and-foot, there was  
little light, lie down properly we could not, wash we could not…this went on for two or more  
fifty-days!”  
  
   
  
Litha turned to look at him. “I did not realise! No clothing, washing?”  
  
   
  
“No change of clothes, no! No washing!” Neal smiled a little. “It was a long time ago, and  
Lira healed all our wounds and scars, but of course many people did not survive the journey.”  
He hesitated, but felt forced to add, “They merely dragged their bodies off to one side and  
they rotted there.  
  
         _“God!”_ he swore in English. Then he went on, “Then we were herded out, beaten some  
more and bought by Iftal, a Market Slaver…and we were given rudimentary washing facilities  
and cleaner clothes…though still rags! …then, after a few tendays, my beloved father – your  
Uncle Caerrovon – came in and bought me and my friends.  
  
         “And everything changed in that instant. We were allowed to bathe and were given  
some of those basic clothes they give to new slaves – and as soon as possible Lucilla, our  
Wardrobe Mistress, gave us soft, lovely clothing, we ate what Lord Steel ate, we were  
allowed to sleep – just left alone to sleep! It felt like the most amazing, generous miracle, just  
to be allowed to shower and lie down and sleep!  
  
         “You wonder I love him as I do, but if you had experienced that horror and then that  
deliverance, you would love him, too!”  
  
   
  
Thervessalon and Litha gazed at him.  
  
   
  
“Sorry!” he said, uncomfortably. “You did ask! I should not have told you the details, Litha. It  
is not something you should hear.”  
  
   
  
“I have not realised this,” Litha said, softly.  
  
   
  
Thervessalon said, subdued, “That is why your father fights for better laws to protect slaves,  
to control the collection of slaves?”  
  
   
  
“Yes. Because he saw three youngsters…less than your Age of Conscience, I think…the  
daughter was raped and beaten in front of her brothers until she died. The two boys were also  
whipped and assaulted – my father bought the two, and was beaten for it by his father, who  
just saw it as an irresponsible waste of money, which, of course, it was – a waste of money,  
that is! – especially as they both died of their injuries.”  
  
   
  
“I have heard some of this,” Thervessalon said, still speaking quietly. “I thought perhaps he  
was too young to judge, too…”  
  
   
  
“Too soft?” Neal asked, just a hint of challenge in his voice. “I wish to God your people had  
hearts as soft before we were stolen from our lives…” He breathed deeply for a moment and  
then said, “…of course, had I known the outcome, I would have jumped aboard the  
Slaveship! I have found my father, and my love…” He smiled at Litha. “But I would ask how  
you would feel, had you been one of those brothers, Thervessalon, and to remember that  
feeling, especially when you take the knot and join my father at the House.  
  
         “Now, enough of this! I am sure we have spoken of enough misery for one day!”  
  
   
  
“One thing,” Thervessalon pointed out, “not all slaves are stolen. Not all slaves wish to be  
freed. Sometimes it is the wish of a family, or an individual, and not all of them undergo vile  
treatment as you did, Neal.”  
  
   
  
“No, and some of our slaves at Steel were born there, or at other decent Keeps, and have no  
bad memories at all!” Neal agreed. “But those Slavers who do vile things should know that it  
is not acceptable to the society, that they face some sort of retribution.”  
  
   
  
“But you,” Thervessalon said, with a sudden grin, “you steal from people, do you not? Is that  
acceptable to society?”  
  
   
  
“I do steal, not so much now, I am ashamed to say that I seem to be too _busy!_ – and it is not  
acceptable and I face many winters in a cage if I am caught. But I have never hurt anyone  
physically, and if I could bring some of my victims to you, you would find that many are less  
than horrified or disgusted with me: some are even my friends. I do not say that some have  
not lost time they have put in to be able to purchase some artwork, but the people from whom  
I steal are excessively wealthy – or I steal from museums and institutions.  
  
........“I do not torture anyone, let alone children. I believe there is a difference!”  
  
   
  
“You do it for _fun!”_ Thervessalon accused him, grinning.  
  
   
  
“Yes! One’s profession should be lucrative and fun!” Neal agreed, smiling blandly, “or it is  
merely a way of passing away the tedious hours of existence till death intervenes!”  
  
   
  
Litha chuckled, and held his arm.  
  
   
  
They took him to see the glass-blowing, and he was impressed at the masters’ skill and the  
colours they had developed. The apprentices were making large numbers of complicated glass  
bubbles that held the pairs of light- or fire-bugs. Others made floats for the fishermen, bottles,  
vases, glasses and other ware, some very delicate and ornate, others, made by journeymen,  
more utilitarian.  
  
   
  
“You do not do cut glass? Or create intaglio?” Neal asked, and then had to explain the words  
he was using. A group of Glass Masters were soon gathered around him as they spread his  
querying between them, heart-to-heart, all demanding to be told what he meant. As ever, the  
empathy, though not involved in actual thought transference, seemed to help those with  
expertise to understand what he was saying, and they became very excited. Some threw down  
a half-blown vase or a pretty ornament and ran to their drawing boards, demanding that he  
show them. He did many quick sketches, explaining that his understanding was rudimentary.  
  
   
  
“Oops!” Neal said as he joined the heir and his own betrothed, hunching his shoulders a little.  
“I thought not before I spoke…!”  
  
   
  
Thervessalon fake-glared at him, but then grinned in spite of himself. “I can see that having  
you in the family is going to be an interesting experience!”  
  
   
  
“Yes. On my planet Earth we say, ‘Do not think of this marriage as losing your daughter, but  
of gaining a son!’ – it is supposed to comfort the father and mother of the bride!”  
  
   
  
“I can see where that might sometimes be the case!” Thervessalon told him, drolly. “Here, I  
think we will not lose the troublesome, excitable daughter, she always returns despite our best  
efforts, and will, in addition have a non-conformist, militant son with… dubious ideas about  
the sanctity of personal property!”  
  
   
  
“Oh, Thervessalon, I am not troublesome! And when did you ever try and get rid of me?”  
Litha cried.  
  
   
  
“We were too subtle, Aramalitha, if noticed you did not!” Thervessalon told her, and the  
cousins laughed at each other. They turned and Neal felt happily included, which surprised  
him. He’d thought that Laffaysham would be the worst Keep to even begin to feel a part of!  
  
   
  
After the mid-day meal…where Neal had the distinct impression via his criminal intuition  
that Litha had changed the place cards so they would be seated together, he was directly on  
the left of Lady Laffay and Litha on _his_ left!... Barstellon Laffay, the slightly younger brother  
of Thervessalon, offered to take Neal and show him the studios.  
  
   
  
Neal had the feeling that Barstellon had wanted this assignment a little too much…and hadn’t  
Mozzie had an odd tone of voice when he spoke of this man?  
  
   
  
Barstellon was a little shorter and a little darker than his older brother, but was handsome  
enough. He was, if anything, overly polite. Neal answered in kind, thinking that he preferred  
Jebb Sunder’s open hostility!  
  
   
  
 _I don’t like guns in my face, but I think I prefer them to knives in my back!_  
  
   
  
If Barstellon wanted Neal to be awed by the truly overwhelming layout of studios, the  
seemingly endless numbers of light-bugs, the huge windows, the arrays of paints and brushes  
and sculpting tools at the reach of every artist, master to beginner, he would have been very  
pleased.  
  
   
  
Neal was not an envious person. He was pleased with the success, abundance and acquisitions  
of others…especially if they had good security, enough to make his life a challenge…but this  
set-up was quite stunning. He didn’t mind it _now_ – he had studios in Italy, in New York, at  
Steel...  
  
.......   …but to have experienced the kind of support given here to any child with the slightest  
interest …what would that have felt like? Would he be a better artist than scrounging broken  
pencils out of gutters and old calendars from every store around each New Year so he could  
draw on the backs? Or did that make him appreciate it all the more?  
  
   
  
There was no use trying to con any of these people. Sadly! And why bother in this case? He  
was about to marry the guy’s sister!  
  
         “It is beautiful, so well organised and inspiring!” he said, with very real enthusiasm. “I  
wish I had grown up here!”  
  
   
  
To his surprise, he caught an odd expression on the man’s handsome face: not gloating, or  
smugness or arrogance. These he had expected, anticipated. He turned, but the look was gone  
– but he was sure Barstellon had looked annoyed! He glanced at Litha, but she didn’t seem  
concerned, so they proceeded on the tour.  
  
Neal commented on the various techniques, stroked the jade and onyx as though it was skin,  
he chatted with painters about the brushes they were using; why they had chosen that  
perspective; when abstraction became laziness; why this sculptor had emphasised the hands,  
who was the subject of the piece? - comparing it to Earth‘s David; asked how had this painter  
created the deep and moody background to throw forward the warmer, brighter subject.  
  
He was himself amongst other artists he could relate to and understand. He lost himself, as he  
often did, in the higher, larger world of creation. Most of those working or planning were  
only too pleased to find this alien guest knowledgeable enough to discuss their work  
intelligently, and now and then, when he offered some advice, it was always diffidently,  
humbly.  
  
   
  
He left, followed with open invitations from all of the Masters he’d spoken with to join them  
whenever he was staying at Laffaysham, that a studio would always be at his disposal, and  
they would love to have a chance to talk further about Earth art with him.  
  
   
  
Litha squeezed his arm as he turned back from waving good-bye, and he had to return to her  
side consciously.  
  
   
  
“Thank you so very much!” he said to Barstellon and Litha, his face one big, brilliant smile.  
“That was so much fun! What lovely people artists are, given some space and time and  
encouragement!”  
  
   
  
“We are a Keep that tries hard to give them that, exactly!” Litha said to him. “More than other  
Keeps! We have warriors and cooks and all the other functions found at Betchem and Sunder,  
but here the artists are given a very central role.”  
  
   
  
Neal laughed. “I think you see the pure art as the only art, and certainly I am something of this  
mind – but Sunder’s swordsmiths and jewellers are artists, Betchem’s carvers and  
parquetry-layers – and as for the cooks at Camber, how valuable an art is that, Litha!”  
  
   
  
She smiled, though Barstellon did not look happy. He looks as though he tasted some bad  
food! He said, pointedly, “Aramalitha, what do we need to show your …friend…now?”  
  
   
  
Litha was too wrapped up in her happiness to be too concerned with her customarily critical  
older cousin. She had been sad for so very long and now she was walking three inches above  
the ground, bathed in the warmth of her darling’s love and lit by the light in his eyes  
whenever he looked at her! It was a heady feeling for a girl that had never been in love  
herself, though she had felt the overflow from others often enough.  
  
   
  
“Oh, Barstellon, I wish to go and check on our horses,” Neal smiled. “I need no more of your  
time. I am so sorry if I have inconvenienced you! Litha can come to the stables and I shall  
show her my favourite horse for travelling.”  
  
   
  
Barstellon frowned. He had put himself in a position of which Neal had immediately taken  
advantage. Now he could not say that he wished to accompany them, he could not claim that  
it was not seemly for Aramalitha to go to the busy stables with Neal! He nodded to them and  
left.  
  
   
  
“I think he does not like me!” Neal grinned at Litha.  
  
   
  
“Oh, I think he does not like himself most of the time!” she shrugged.  
  
   
  
“He should find a wonderful person and fall in love – it has done wonders for my mood!”  
Neal joked and took her arm.  
  
   
  
They wandered round the stables. Neal felt proud of the beautiful Steel horses! Litha made  
much of them, and even the big stallion that Joster rode was as gentle as a lamb with her.  
  
   
  
“I was told that stallions should not be ridden, they were too dangerous,” Litha told Neal.  
  
   
  
“On our world, we have horses much like these – little smaller on average, and some  
differences, but same herd society. The stallions fight, and seldom to the death but it certainly  
can happen, they are extremely strong and fierce! But we have groups where the stallions are  
the only horses ridden; the mares are kept for breeding. Throughout history, this was the case,  
when horses were used for war. And now they are some of the most fantastically trained  
horses, trained in what we call advanced dressage. They are all white when they are fully  
grown, though the babies are black! In fact, I have read up a little on horses since…”  
  
   
  
“What?”  
  
   
  
“It is a secret. How easy is it for you to keep secrets, here?” Neal asked, worried.  
  
   
  
“If it is an emotional secret it is not easy for me at all. Everyone in the Keep knew I was  
miserable that you had left! But other things, less emotional, I can keep them to myself.”  
  
   
  
“The Chiri sent some Earthlings back to Earth, you know that? Well, I went back later and  
then returned. Few people know that. I would rather it stayed that way.”  
  
   
  
“Oh,” she said, disinterestedly, “I cannot think anyone would care.”  
  
   
  
At the evening meal, Neal sat between Lord Laffay and Aramalitha’s mother. He grinned  
sympathetically across at Litha, who obviously had been thwarted in her attempts to place  
him close to her. She was sitting between Thervessalon and her father, on the opposite side of  
the table. He mouthed, “We have many winters, darling!”  
  
   
  
“So, Neal, what do you do at Steel?” Aramathessia asked, at his side.  
  
   
  
“Many things, Ma’am. I have my horses to look after, I like to use your fire-bugs, after  
cleaning out the ovens and fireplaces, to make fires and make sure everyone is warm, I teach  
the children art and some singing…though I am no musician! I try and interact with the other  
Keeps and find ways we can be of more use to each other – and that, Lord Laffay, I would  
like to discuss with you when you have a little time.”  
  
   
  
“Perhaps on the journey, Neal!”  
  
   
  
“I would like that, Lord!  
  
         “And then, of course, I try and gain more mastery of the local weapons, I help a little  
with the cooking when I feel inspired – or I am asked! – most of us help where we are  
needed.”  
  
   
  
“Thervessalon told me a little of your ordeal being taken from home and brought here as a  
slave, and I apologise for that experience you had, Neal,” Lord Laffay told him, obviously  
uncomfortable speaking about the subject even in the most general terms.  
  
   
  
“As I told him, finding Lord Steel – or being found by him – more than made up for that.”  
  
   
  
“What did you do on Earth?”  
  
   
  
“I started out as a criminal, but was using my skills to help a government agency called the  
FBI to catch other criminals.”  
  
   
  
“That sounds like an interesting story!” the Lord commented.  
  
   
  
“To be honest, though I think often of the people, that life seems so long ago! I have lived so  
much since the alien wars – Slaver wars, I should call them to your Lordship, I suppose -  
being here, meeting so many new people learning to ride and use a sword…”  
  
   
  
“Imagine I can not!” Aramathessia said. “You speak Sheel like a native, also!”  
  
   
  
“Thank you, Aramathessia! I was blessed to travel a great deal of my planet and picked up  
languages there. Sheel is not structured the same way, as you can imagine, but I think one’s  
brain works out patterns more easily with every new language one learns.” He was quiet for a  
moment, then went on, “I will not say it has all been easy, but I was at a point in my life when  
I needed a change and, without any beneficial intent, the Slavers did that for me!”  
  
         He was feeling as though he needed a change now, and turned the conversational burden  
onto the Lord.  
  
         “Your son Barstellon kindly accompanied Litha and myself to the artists’ quarter, it is  
magnificent! How did Laffaysham become the aesthetic centre of Brethsham?”  
  
   
  
Lord Laffay was quite contented to enter into the long and very likely apocryphal account of  
the first lonely warrior, a hero, the last survivor of a great battle, who wandered into the  
woods hereabouts in a perfect springtime and was struck by the loveliness of it all. He then  
saw an angelic being who prophesied great success, and decided that he would found a Keep  
on this spot. So he built a small hut, collected flowers and trees, and soon the angel brought  
him a quite gorgeous woman to be his wife, and that is how the Keep started.  
  
   
  
Neal said all that seemed appropriate, and looked up to find Barstellon glaring at him across  
the expansive table. _What is it with this guy?_  
  
   
  
“Are you going to be able to attend the little get-together at Betchem Keep, Lord Laffay,  
Aramathessia?” Neal asked.  
  
   
  
“Indeed! We have not travelled a great deal and the weather prophets tell us that we shall  
have an extended period of calm, crisp weather, so we shall take advantage of that! We might  
even stay there until your strange event, Neal!”  
  
   
  
“I should have combined the two, but I suppose it is too late now! Are your sons coming,  
also?”  
  
   
  
“Our two heirs will indeed attend, and a few of our other children.”  
  
   
  
“I was not going to attend, nor was my husband, we thought it would be sad for Aramalitha if  
we were gone. Now that she is certainly going to insist on attending, we shall chaperone her!”  
  
   
  
“I think she is charming,” Neal told her mother. “I thought, to be honest, that she would be  
a…what I thought of as a typical noble daughter, living a very circumscribed and rather dull  
existence!”  
  
   
  
“From which you would save her!” Lord Laffay chuckled.  
  
   
  
“I would, indeed, had it been necessary! I find, instead, that she is a feisty girl with strong  
opinions!”  
  
   
  
“Is that a disappointment?” her mother asked, amused.  
  
   
  
“Not in the least bit, Ma’am! I find her delightfully refreshing and she will probably be a  
challenge! I want to marry a live and lively woman, Ma’am, not a dishcloth!”  
  
   
  
“Aramalitha is known to be one of our less boring young ladies!” Lord Laffay said with a  
grin.  
  
   
  
“Think not that my friends – or my father! - would say anything more comfortable about me!  
We will suit each other well!”  
  
   
  
“It might not be the best thing to have too many opinions in the same house!” the Lord  
warned.  
  
   
  
“We will manage, Lord. I would rather some spirited…discussions… than boredom or a  
vapid wife!”  
  
   
  
“I wish you well, Neal!” Lord Laffay told him. “Aramalitha is certainly not _vapid!”_  
  
   
  
   
  
When the Laffay’s did anything, it seemed to Neal, they did it in a big way! They gathered  
early on the morning of their departure, with many beautifully decorated and very large  
sleighs in lovely clear colours that all complemented each other, picked out in silver with  
velvet-lined interiors and piles of soft furs. The luggage went in a compartment in the back.  
  
All those who were not leaving for Betchem came and waved! Neal could never remember  
any of them gathering to see his father off to the House, and wondered if he would like that  
sort of attention!  
  
   
  
The royal sleigh verged on over-the-top in crowded amethyst, indigo and violet flowers  
intertwined all over a Prussian blue ground, and freely embellished with silver and fur. Neal  
was amused that most of the sleighs were ‘convertibles’, with leather hoods that could be  
pulled forward to cover the passengers if the weather turned inclement…and certainly, the  
weather patterns were unpredictable at times!  
  
   
  
But many of the Laffay’s looked across at Neal’s far simpler vehicle with envy: none of them  
had ribbon bows or silver bells… _yet!_  
  
   
  
Everyone wore furs. Neal had always been an advocate of fake and fun furs on Earth, but he  
had brought a fake-furred hood to Sheel in the middle of a cold snap and had traded it very  
quickly for real local fur.  
  
He had asked how the animals were killed for their furs, and though he had not yet seen it, he  
was assured (and the expressions of the people he asked were quite horrified when he  
explained how many fur animals were killed on Earth to preserve the whole pelt) that they  
were humanely killed. And quite a lot of the fur was quite real, but was loose hairs sewn  
thickly on to heavy real-fur fabric backing to give three and a half to four inch strands of soft  
fur.     

       This is what he had on his hooded jacket (and yes, he was the only one he could  
see who bothered to have his hood up and the fur round his face: everyone else thought the  
morning quite warm!)  
  
   
  
They set off and Neal was smiling to himself because it looked like a float parade at some  
Disney event for The Ice Princess or some such! All the people and vehicles were so clean  
and bright and everyone was smiling, enjoying going off to visit Betchem!  
  
   
Neal was also privileged and pleased to see that his bride-to-be would not embarrass him  
back at Steel! She eschewed the comfort of a sleigh (as did most of the adults not of advanced  
age) and rode a very pretty mare, (which reminded Neal a little of the famous Turkoman from  
middle-Eastern artwork) with a great deal of confidence. Despite her unconventional  
behaviour in the bedroom – _his_ bedroom! - she rode with light hands and a good seat and  
could be heard softly speaking to her horse.  
  
   
                      
They rode side by side and he asked, “Are the Laffay’s always so…upbeat – um – in such a  
good mood?”  
  
   
  
“It is hard for us when one of us is angry and sad, so we try and find ways to cheer each  
other.”  
  
   
  
“And you would not let yourself be cheered when you were missing me?”  
  
   
  
“No!”  
  
   
  
“Was that not a little…selfish?”  
  
   
  
“Poooh!” she exclaimed. “I have no patience for such nonsense! I could have smiled and  
buried by emotions and even inveigled myself into believing that you were not right for me;  
that I had been mistaken in my first impression.”  
  
   
  
“Mm-hmm?” Neal asked, vastly entertained.  
  
   
  
“And then where would we be? Everyone would think I was contented…even I might have  
persuaded myself I was in a satisfactory state! You would be somewhere doing something far  
less interesting than riding with me, and I would be sewing embroidery on my sisters'  
marriage gowns! Thank you, no!”  
  
   
  
“Assuredly far less interesting!” Neal chuckled. “You are not concerned that you have made  
other people feel uncomfortable?”  
  
   
  
“If I am supposed to make myself imagine that I am feeling happy, when I have not got you,  
then I imagine that they can make themselves feel happy, knowing that I am unhappy…that,  
or help me get what I want!”  
  
   
  
“Now you sound selfish!”  
  
   
  
“No, why – because I want to get what I want? Why would anyone pretend to want to get  
what they do not want? That sounds insane to me!”  
  
   
  
Neal thought about the sentence a moment. “It sounds a little insane to me too…but I am  
much more convinced that my best friend will find you a kindred spirit!”  
  
   
  
“Good!” she smiled brightly. Then she raised an eyebrow. “You are teasing me!”  
  
   
  
“Well, I was a little, but you are quite right. It is not selfish unless you are wanting to take  
someone or something that doesn’t want to be taken – and I am very glad to have found you!  
– or if someone else wants the something more than you do, or has a relationship with the  
something first and you do not care about that!”  
  
   
  
“But you took paintings that belonged to others…?”  
  
   
  
“I did. But for selfish reasons take the paintings and art work I did not. I made money out of  
taking them so I could live well. And I would never take a painting from someone who  
personally loved it: most were for display or investment.”  
  
   
  
He spent a little while trying to explain the foreign concept of insurance to her.  
  
   
  
“Seems stupid. If a man took all the money he spent to be repaid for the loss of his art, you  
say yourself he would be in a better position than if someone stole or burnt the painting. Get it  
back the insurance money can not do!”  
  
   
  
“Unless you started the policy – started paying – and then very soon the painting was lost.  
Then you would win the gamble with the insurance company. They usually win, they do not  
take large risks!”  
  
   
  
“But a painting is more than just money!”  
  
   
  
“Not to those people who think the insurance money gives comfort…and they could buy  
another wonderful painting, but not likely the same one!...and they are not more than money  
to those people I usually steal from!”  
  
   
  
“Well, then, you do a good thing, giving freedom to those paintings held by unappreciative  
people, which perhaps will go where they are loved!”  
  
   
  
“Yes, Dearest, and my Mozzie is going to love you!”  
  
   
  
“Then I am sure I shall love him!”  
  
   
  
He carefully avoided telling her that he often replaced the painting with one of his own that  
could not be detected. Firstly, he was rather inclined to believe that she would think he was  
over-generous to those unappreciative museums and private collectors! Secondly, he did not  
want her to think about forging in connection to him.  
  
   
  
 _Not just yet, anyway!_  
  
   
  
   
  
They came over the hill and Betchem lay swathed in snow like a some of the photographs  
Neal remembered of Mary Pickford, America’s Sweetheart, looking contented, confident and  
beautiful with a thick white fur wrap. As they rode closer, they could see that the Castle Keep  
had also been hung about with the pennants of Steel, Laffay and Betchem, as well as Sunder  
and Camber.  
  
   
  
“I hope that got the occasions mixed up they have not!” Neal murmured.  
  
   
  
But Betchem was correct – Tallk was there, representing Sunder, Lord Camber represented  
Camber Keep, and both of these men made a point of coming up as the contingent from  
Laffay arrived and hugged Neal tightly, confounding some of the Laffays! Neal was talking  
animatedly to them, Tallk was telling him that his father would be at Neal’s special event, but  
could not make both, but sent him with a letter of thanks, as the cloth-fog-collection-system  
was working very well, and they had great hopes for the following summer, and there was an  
order for more cloth enclosed!  
  
   
  
Camber whispered that all was being held in readiness for his event, and that they were  
keeping their part a secret.  
  
   
  
“Thank you, Lord, because I could keep it from most people, but from your Keep – I just had  
to trust you!” Neal whispered back, his blue eyes gleaming excitedly.  
  
   
  
“I love secrets!” Lord Camber confided and Neal replied with a sideways grin, “Then, Lord,  
we shall always get on very well, for they are my stock in trade!”  
  
   
  
Then Lord Steel and Mozzie found them and, with a polite bow to the older Lord Camber,  
who obligingly got out of their way, they took turns in hugging Neal.  
  
   
  
“We are all set up!” Mozzie hissed in English into Neal’s ear.  
  
   
  
“Good! Oh, I think I should introduce – here she is – well, you know my Lord, Litha!”  
  
   
  
Litha hugged his right arm and smiled brilliantly at Steel and Mozzie.  
  
   
  
“Uncle Caerrovon! I am betrothed to your son, is it not wonderful?  
  
.......“And you must be Mozzie, who is a light in Neal’s heart but whom otherwise I do not know  
at all, and will find out nothing if you do not tell it to me, on his orders!”  
  
   
  
Steel looked from Neal to Litha and said, “I think, Aramalitha, dear, that the two of you  
deserve each other!”  
  
   
  
“Neal? A word?” Mozzie demanded, extremely startled by all this.  
  
   
  
Litha immediately stopped smiling and stepped in front of Mozzie. She did not touch him, put  
her hands behind her back in fact, and said in a voice Neal could hardly hear, “Mozzie, Neal  
loves you. I love him, too, but I met him very recently. From how you are embedded in his  
heart, I know you to have been extremely close friends for many tens of winters.  
  
         “If having me in his life will lessen the bond between you, tell me – or tell him – and I  
will leave without regrets. I am not one to throw solvent on another’s masterpiece or run on  
another’s flower-patch.”  
  
   
  
Mozzie looked up into her solemn face. They stood like an island of silence and gravity  
amongst the swirling crowds, and suddenly Mozzie grinned at her. “Sometimes the patch  
Neal and I share grows thorns or weeds, sometimes fragrant flowers or sweet fruits, and  
certainly there have been some booted footprints we had to rake over assiduously over the  
years! - but it has been in existence for a long while and I treasure it. Let us see if we can  
share a garden together. You need to meet my Sally.”  
  
   
  
Neal sighed with relief, Mozzie actually took Litha’s hand and led her away and she glanced  
back and winked at Neal and his father, standing with their arms round one another.  
  
   
  
“What have you got yourself into, my son?” Caerrovon asked, mildly.  
  
   
  
“You, my dear Lord, did not tell me how different things are at Laffay! I expected to have to  
woo her, if she was still interested, to have to court the favour of her family and then the Lord  
and Lady! Instead - ”  
  
   
  
“Instead,” Lord Steel said, mischievously, “they all shrugged and said, ‘She loves you, you  
love her, that all seems in order – good fortune and when do you wish the ceremony?’ ”  
  
   
  
“Exactly!” Neal glared up at him.  
  
   
  
“Well, you do want her, do you not?”  
  
   
  
“I – I have not had that much time to know her. Thankfully, she understands my inadequacies,  
is so sure herself that she says she will wait while I advance to her position, and now all I  
have to worry about is that if I disagree I shall have a falling out with _Mozzie!_  
  
.......“Now why did you not tell me, Father?”  
  
   
  
“I have _so_ few entertainments, Neal!”  
  
   
  
“That is why you chose Mozzie and me?”  
  
   
  
“I thought I had explained that!” They stood quietly, then Steel said, “I am not full Laffay, but  
I can feel you are happy, Neal!”  
  
   
  
“I am. I think any man would feel…gratified if such a gorgeous girl raced across a room in  
front of all the might of the society and threw herself into his arms!”  
  
   
  
Steel laughed. “She did, did she?”  
  
   
  
“She did. Then she scandalised my poor Joster and Merritt and invaded my bedroom – my  
 _bedroom_ , my Lord – early the next morning before I was even up and dressed.”  
  
   
  
Steel looked down at him. “And were you as shocked, Neal?”  
  
   
  
“I was shocked. Not annoyed, you understand! Just be pleased that I understand the normal  
acceptable behaviour in the families of nobility and follow my own …whims…I did not.”  
  
   
  
“Having much greater self-discipline than many might guess of an inveterate thief!”  
  
   
  
“How is it that you can tease me about it and I feel loved and appreciated?”  
  
   
  
“Because you are loved and appreciated, and – _other than that large piece of meat!_ \- you have  
never stolen from me!”  
  
   
  
“I knew you would bring that up! I should never have admitted to it!”  
  
   
  
Ethlan wended his way through the crush and enveloped Neal in a hug. “Hallo! I am so  
grateful! You forced my friend to come and spend a few days at Betchem!”  
  
   
  
“You know not the half of it!” Neal muttered, but Caerrovon and Ethlan were talking and  
ignored him!  
  
   
  
   
  
 

 

  
   
  
 End of Chapter 39  
  
   
  
And nearly the end of my story!  I know most of you weren't on board, but I love Neal finding  
out about Aramalitha and her family, and how different they are. Hope you are at least okay  
with it. Please comment, those still with me.  
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
   
  
 


	40. Re-homing Great-Aunt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A party and presentation at Betchem.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Joster appeared and Neal welcomed him, knowing that he would have spent the time finding out where they were sleeping that night!

 

When Neal found himself in one of Betchem’s rich, warm rooms, he threw himself onto the soft, leather sofa and groaned.

 

“Are you well, Master Neal?” Merritt asked.

 

“No, do not start Mastering all over again! No-one is here but us! Are you annoyed that throw the pretty girl out of my room I did not? Or are you annoyed that pretty girls invade not _your_ room?”

 

Merritt thought a little. “If you wished to leave yourself any room to evade this union, I think you should have politely asked her to leave as soon as she appeared.”

 

Neal raised his head. “Oh. Well, firstly, there was no time to do anything but make sure that break my ankle leaping onto it she did not! If anyone should have politely asked her to leave, it was _you!_ Do you think Brak would have allowed her to break in on Lord Steel?”

 

“He would not,” Joster agreed. “But then, been mooning over the lass for several fifty-days Lord Steel has not!”

 

Neal tried to look dignified but grinned instead. “As I was about to say: _Secondly,_ I enjoyed having her cuddle up to me! I think you are envious, Merritt! And I think if I have any misgivings about furthering this marriage, she will pick them up from my thoughts and leave me!”

 

“The Laffays seem a very odd bunch, not wishing to give offense, Neal! Are you sure you wish to marry one of them? How can they let you marry her when you hardly know each other?”

 

“I hardly know _her!_ (She is doing her best to change that, however.) But she knows me because she can look through my skin and see my character and personality because she is a powerful Empath.”

 

“That sounds uncomfortable, Neal, especially for someone who feels that _we_ are…what is the term…’stalking’? by knowing how you like your tea?”

 

“I was teasing you, Joster. I have never had servants before, and I would have thought that you would be intrusive and remove all my privacy. But you leave me alone at home when I do not need you, and on journeys like this one I am very grateful for your solicitude and your trustworthiness, truly I am.”

 

The two brothers smiled at each other and at him. “Thank you, Neal. You have been kind and overly generous with your trust and friendship, and we have spoken of this: we want to be your best servants, but also your friends, so you do not feel we are invading your life as …employees? Is that too familiar, Neal?”

 

“No, for with that kind of relationship I can be most comfortable, Joster, Merritt. Because Brak looked after our Lord when he was a little boy, they have a relationship that is more family than lord/servant, and I hope we can achieve that, also. I already think of you like friends, younger brothers as well as helpers and guards – and givers of unsolicited advice, which is also very Brak-like!”

 

They all smiled, and Merritt said, “Do not marry this girl if sure it is right you are not, Neal!”

 

“What do you two think of her?” asked Neal. “At one time, any woman I had was only of importance to _me._ Then, there was my friend Mozzie, of course, but we lived more separate lives than we now do. Now there is my Lord, my father, and you two – my choice will have some effect on each and every one of you.”

 

Joster and Merritt looked at each other, and the older brother spoke, “I believe she loves you, Neal, though it seems odd to me for such a short relationship – but as you say, she knows you from her sensitivity. Other than that, she is attractive, and light-hearted. Can she support the role of the Lady of a Keep? She seems to lack… decorum?

         “Which,” he added, hurriedly, “may be charming in an ordinary wife, Neal, but it is conceivable that she may be called upon to be Lady Steel of Steel Keep!”

 

Neal stared at him. “To think,” he muttered to himself, “I am considering the level of decorum in a mate as a necessity for suitability!” Then he said, “Well, Lord Caerrovon Steel’s mother was a Laffay, after all! I promise I shall ask her if she can pretend to be dull and decorous if the occasion arises!”

 

His men nodded gratefully, and Neal asked, “How is this organised? Are we revealing our gift to Betchem later tonight?”

 

“No, Neal. Sir Mozzie and the Lord thought it best if we all have an early night tonight. Everyone is here now, but many are a little weary from travelling…at least the older members of the parties. It is arranged that there should be small gatherings for the evening meal, mostly food brought to the rooms, and then at mid-day tomorrow or thereabouts there is a skating party on the lake, which has been cleared for skating, and Betchem, their slaves tell me, wishes to show off her lovely surroundings.

         “Then we shall all foregather early in the evening in the Greatroom, and the presentation will be made and then we shall eat in the Great Diningroom.”

 

“Do you skate?” Neal asked, a little surprised. It was a skill he had never mastered as a child, and had only tried once, and briefly. He was strong and athletic, and had good balance, but to try something he wasn’t good at, with equipment that was probably not what he was used to…in front of his girlfriend and all her relatives…!

 

“I have never had the opportunity, Neal, before entering service, and as usual, on just brief occasions I have tried it. And the slaves will probably be tending the fire and bringing food, rather than skating!”

 

“Would you like to make a wager that I can easily lose that would mean we swop places for this picnic-thing?” Neal queried, and Joster laughed. “Well, I have never had much of an opportunity either! I can ski, and have done a little snow-boarding, and – well, I guess I shall learn to skate!”

 

Merritt’s eyes lit up. “Let us take some skates, all of us, and go to the lake tonight. It is clear, and there are two moons, nearly at the full!”

 

 

 

Mozzie and Sally, Neal and Litha joined Lord Steel and Ethlan in the main room of this suite, and Neal and Joster and Merritt ferried food, since Brak, Neal said, should be looked after, too, and everyone did truly seem a little weary and not particularly talkative, though Steel grinned at Litha feeding Neal from her plate and Mozzie expounding to Brak about the Betchem wines and their woody-notes!

 

“I think we should all take this opportunity to get some extra sleep,” Steel told them. “It is going to be quite a busy time, with a short respite between, and then we will be travelling again.”

 

Neal took Litha off to the nearby balcony and asked, “Can you be the decorous Lady of Steel Keep if everything I love there is destroyed and it falls to me to take the knot? My man is concerned!”

 

“Yes!” she gave her lovely gurgle of laughter, and made Neal grin. “I _thought_ you would get a lecture after I invaded your sleeping quarters back home! Why are slaves and servants so much more worried about conventions than we are?”

 

“Somebody has to be, I suppose!” Neal decided.

 

She looked at him, the moonlight catching her eyes like dew-drops, and nodded. “So we are like the dolls that other children played with: we must fill the roles and act properly so they feel they have their place?”

 

“Well, for each of them we are a demonstration that they do their job well, Litha! Where is your personal servant?”

 

“I gave her the night off, and organised food to be brought to her room. Shame, she is much older and these stairs give her trouble unless she has had a Chiri sing for her.”

 

“There will be some here tomorrow,” Neal told her.

 

“Good! I love her, she was my nurse when I was a baby, but she does fuss a little.”

 

“I would think that any ancient retainer would do more than fuss if they had to try and fence you in, darling!”

 

“I would suggest you do not call her ancient to her face, Neal - and you are teasing me again!”

 

“I am! Come, give me a decorous peck on the cheek and let us get some rest.”

 

Litha turned, put her hands round his head and pulled him into a long and sensual kiss that left him completely breathless. Eventually….eventually …she stepped away and he cleared his throat and remarked, his voice devoid of expression, that if she thought that was a decorous peck, he probably would not survive their love-making!

 

She laughed, showing off her lovely neck, and said, “I am sure you think it not seemly to speak of sexual intercourse with a virgin, Neal!”

 

“With most virgins, Litha! Somehow, though, you are in a class of your own!”

 

“I strove towards such status, Neal! I want you not to fall in love with a crowd of women!”

 

“Do you skate?” he asked, suddenly.

 

“I can. Laffaysham is a little warmer than Steel, or Betchem, but we have enough ice and many think it is the most graceful and artistic of physical pastimes.”

 

“How would you like to break the rules and come out with me tonight...well, quite alone we will not be, but…you could help me learn to skate?”

 

He had the pleasure of seeing her eyes light up. “Oooh, I knew you were the right husband for me! Shall I climb out of the window?”

 

For a split second, Neal wished earnestly that he could jump into her bedroom and jump her out to the frozen lake, but immediately dismissed it. Too many things could go wrong – including the possibility, looking ever more remote, that they might not suit! Instead he said, “Would anyone notice if you just walked out the door of your suite?”

 

“What has that got to do with it…?...they might, I suppose – let us say that almost certainly they will! _Now_ can I climb out of the window?”

 

“I assume I have to be there to catch you if you fall, placing me at the scene of the crime with the girl in my arms?” Neal queried.

 

She smiled beatifically. “You are not scared?”

 

“Of Thervessalon and Barstellon (who hates me for some reason) and Lord Laffay – to say nothing of all the guards and what-have-you’s that we all travel with?” He took a deep breath,

........“Nah!”

 

“Good! I will show you which window is mine before I retire for the night - temporarily!”

 

“And I will then go and find myself a thick coat and a few blankets so freeze more solid than the lake before you arrive I do not!”

 

“This is fun!”

 

“Mmm!”

 

 

When he returned, everyone but Mozzie was elsewhere. Mozzie said, “I am only staying to say this: I am surprised.”

 

“Oh, Moz, I thought you liked Litha - ”

 

“I am surprised,” Mozzie spoke over him ruthlessly, “that I really like this girl! I thought she would be...too light and gauzy and air-headed. She is not what I expected, she is smart and ruthless and determined to have you.”

 

“Smart and ruthless.”

 

“Yep! She reminds me of me, many decades ago, now, deciding you were going to become my partner.”

 

“She does?”

 

“Yes. And I think she’ll be as good for you as I have been all these years.”

 

Neal looked quizzically at him, then his warm and charming smile spread across his face and he kissed Mozzie’s head and said, “If she is half as good for me as you have always been, I shall be the luckiest husband alive on two planets!”

 

Mozzie smiled back, gratified, and said, “I should go. _My_ lovely woman awaits in a fur-covered wooden masterpiece king-size bed wearing, in all likelihood, very little. Hence my lack of desire to stay with you, despite the fact that we are best of friends! Joster said he would be back in a short while.”

 

Neal found himself alone in his room and wondered if there was any way he could jump to Earth and find some skates that fitted! He should have asked Moz the time in various zones across Canada! However, Earth skates would probably look too odd. He would just have to make do with the local version – they couldn’t be very different!

 

When they arrived with skates, he told Joster and Merritt that Litha was joining them, and went off, bundled up like Charlie Brown to wait for Litha. He needn’t have bothered, she climbed out almost immediately, warmly dressed and in high good humour, though cautiously quiet.

 

Joster and Merritt had somehow discovered (probably from some Laffay slave-stalker!) Litha’s boot size and had a pair of skates for her also. They all sneaked down the wooden corridors and out into the white, cold and snowy world. It was something of a walk to the lake, but paths had been cleared and it was fun. Neal had never had the opportunity of sneaking out at night to go to a dance, or skinning-dipping in a local water-filled quarry, or some other forbidden delight with a brother or friends. He looked around at the smiles and the bouncing steps and thought that this might have been what it felt like.

 

_Better late than never!_

Pretty wooden benches were set out by the water and they sat and pulled on and laced up the skates, which looked more like hockey-skates than figure-skates, having a longer blade. Since doing the first quad on Brethsham wasn’t Neal’s priority, he didn’t care. He just wanted to learn to remain upright!

 

Litha stood, stamped her feet a few times, stepped onto the ice surface – and glided away like a flying swan. She came back to observe Joster and Merritt, one on each side, holding Neal upright while he found his balance.

 

“You look, my love, like a baby horse, new-born!” she told him.

 

“Foal!” said the heir to Steel, not feeling happy. He was good at many things. Skating did not seem as though it was going to enlarge the number of those things.

 

Time passed. Every time it seemed he had found his balance, and either Joster or Merritt – or both – cautiously let him go, he fell over. Trying various balance points had the single advantage that he fell over in different directions, which made the falling slightly less painful than landing heavily on already established bruises would have done! Litha tried not to laugh at him. He was grateful, but would rather not be giving her so many reasons to laugh! So many pastimes he had mastered involved strength and balance – surely this could not be that different! He _wanted_ to be able to skate with his Litha!

 

Since neither Joster nor Merritt was an accomplished skater, Litha decided to take over. But that meant that Neal became even more concerned, worried that he would pull her over with him, and therefore even more tense and unstable. But, he told himself, trying to be generous, Joster and Merritt seemed to be having fun as they skated round, not having to worry about him!

 

“I am cold and sore and I think not that this is helping me learn at all!” Neal said, having landed on his backside on the amazingly hard solid water for about the fifth time. “I think I should give up the attempt.”

 

Joster swooped over and said, “Master Neal?”

 

“I am ill-tempered, Joster, not angry with you! Why the ‘Master’.”

 

Joster managed, by sheer brute force, to yank him to his skated feet and indicated with his head. Steel and Brak were standing by their coats at the edge of the lake.

 

“Damn!” Neal said, feeling rather sorry for himself. “Busted!”

 

“Neal?”

 

“Caught, discovered, no-longer-secretly-skating, Joster. Help me get over to the side, would you?”

 

“I shall sincerely try!” Joster said, dubiously.

 

Neal managed to limp – held tightly by Joster – to the side. Litha flew up, showering him with shaved ice as she skidded to a halt, and said delightedly to the rather annoyed-looking Steel, “Daddy Steel! You came to join us! How lovely!”

 

Steel closed his eyes briefly. He decided to ignore the ebullient Litha, as trying to tell her that this was not proper behaviour had probably been tried before, with an obvious and notable lack of success. He said to his son, instead, “Why are you out here skating in the middle of the night, Neal?”

 

“Oh, no, of _that_ , dear Lord, you cannot accuse me!” Neal huffed. “Making dents in their lovely rink, perhaps! Skating, no.”

 

Litha tried not to laugh, and instead gave a less-than-lady-like snort. Joster and Merritt, from looking a little shame-faced, turned away to hide their grins, as did Brak.

 

Steel again did his best to ignore them, but felt forced to ask, “I thought there were places on Earth that were as cold as parts of Brethsham.”

 

“There are!” Neal agreed. “Many of the coldest places on Earth are as cold as perhaps the warmest places on Brethsham. That does not mean I ever had the chance to perfect my skating!”

 

“I am so used to your skills being above average, son. And I distinctly remember Peter saying that you were an expert at skating on thin ice – which we know is more dangerous than skating on this nice thick ice, so - ”

 

Now Neal had to grin a little. “It means that I take dangerous risks, my Lord. A colloquialism. Not that I actually learned to skate on any ice whatsoever.”

 

“Oh. That seems a pity!”

 

“Yes, does it not?” Neal said, grumpily. “I am going in. Sitting – or lying – on this so-nice thick ice is not as warming as actually moving across it might be.”

 

Steel looked down on his son who was fiddling with the laces, trying to undo them, petulant with disappointment, and suddenly said, “Joster! Come over here! What size is your boot? Yes, close enough – give me your skates!”

 

Neal sat on his coat on the bench as the exchange was made, and Steel, getting a feel for the skates, ventured out on the ice. Then he came closer and said,

         “Neal! Remember what Ellen said? Something that changed the way you interact with society? She said, ‘You look at those children out there. Pick one or two that are having a great time! Watch how they smile, how they play with the others. Then pretend you’re one of them. Then you’ll fit in, just like they do. You’re the smartest kid I’ve ever known, Danny. You can do this!’ ”

 

Neal looked up at him, startled, remembering the scene with him, the scene they’d experienced together.

 

“Now watch me as you watched those children – Danny!” Steel smiled, and calmly skated off, stroking on deep edges, looking totally at home on the ice. He turned one way, then the other, stopped, started off again. “Come on – Danny, my boy! – come and join me!”

 

Neal stood up, keeping his eyes on his father and seeing, even feeling within him how it felt to move across the ice, and then he was skating towards Steel. He wasn’t perfect, he was still wobbly, still struggling to balance now and then, but he was up and skating! Steel turned and opened his arms and as Neal reached him he hugged him.

 

“See?” Steel said. “Smartest kid I’ve ever known!”

 

“That’s _English!”_ Neal said, likewise, suddenly realising, and Steel nodded.

 

“I heard it when we were…on Earth together!

........“Come on – you can do this! And skate not too slowly, it is harder that way.”

 

Steel watched, skating alongside Neal, and Litha joined them.

 

“Bend your knees a little more,” she told him. They skated round in a circle, then turned and skated the other way.

 

“I think you will not make a fool of yourself tomorrow, Master Neal!” Merritt said, as the young man joined them.

 

Neal was laughing, relieved that he wasn’t some strange mutant that could not skate at all and never would. It wasn’t as though he always found things easy to learn. Some things took persistence and a great deal of practice and only his stubbornness and determination not to let them beat him kept him at it when progress seemed agonisingly slow.

 

He didn’t realise that to onlookers (usually Mozzie) the time it took him to master anything seemed ridiculously and infuriatingly short!

 

“Now it is just practice, Neal!” his Lord told him as they reached the edge.

 

“Thank you all so much – especially you, my Lord! How clever of you, to remember to tell me to pretend!”

 

They replaced skates with thick furred winter boots and started off towards Betchem.

        

“You had better get back to your parent’s suite, Aramalitha,” Lord Steel said, a little sternly, as they made their way towards the Steel suite. “I would rather not have your Lord complaining that my son was leading you astray. Unless it was you leading him astray!”

 

“I will return gladly, Daddy Steel!” she said, impishly, leaning up to kiss his cheek, which he presented for her. “To tell you the truth, I am a little cold and quite tired.”

 

“And it was I who asked Litha if she wished to join us,” Neal confessed.

 

“And it was my idea in the first place, when I heard that Master Neal could not skate, my Lord,” Merritt admitted.

 

“And I found the skates – and Lady Litha’s boot size, my Lord,” Joster nodded.

 

“And in any event, my Lord, you can hardly blame us, can you?” Neal asked, with a grin.

 

“Why is that?” Lord Steel asked, looking down his nose at Neal.

 

“Because you were skating just as much as any of us!”

 

“Horrid boy!” Steel said. “Joster and Merritt – you take back the skates! Neal – you go and help Aramalitha through her window. And return in very short order, do you hear? I shall expect you in a quarter of a candlemark! Now go!”

 

“Yes, Sir!”

 

“Yes, my Lord!”

 

“Yes, Daddy Steel!”

 

“And call me not that - !”

 

The younger people scattered, and Steel grinned to himself and he and Brak closed the door of their suite on the rest of Betchem, and laughed.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

The next morning Neal, prodding various tender and purpling spots, complained to Mozzie that skating was more dangerous than any other pastime he’d tried, to which Mozzie did not think it worth replying. He would have had to list all the instances where he’d mended clothing, washed muck out of eyes, applied salve to nasty patient-unreachable road-burns, stitched up cuts, splinted sprains and breaks, given injections and formulated cures for infections and once a suspected poisoning, and on two notable occasions dug bullets out of his young friend.

 

_Nope, why bring all that up?_

 

 

Neal was, however, comforted by the new clothes Lucilla and her creative team had made for this occasion: a lovely forest-green outfit for the skating party, with perfectly matching hat, and only very muted green-on-green embroidery across the shoulders, incorporating the half-knot.

 

She had also designed and made a suit for the presentation, and here Mozzie admitted to have helped, as she incorporated the art-deco designs from the Chrysler Building, and the whole thing was in Steel's dark, bright blue, and black with silver accents.

         “I could never get away with this on Earth!” Neal exclaimed. “Outside a Broadway musical or Hollywood Movie of the Golden Age! And look at the shaping and the chevrons, she’s made it so it is very flattering.”

 

“Well, you are the star of this show!” Mozzie grinned at his enthusiasm.

 

 

Neal was still a little dubious about the skating, but once on the ice he found he had his ‘ice-legs’ and though he wouldn’t mind a month or two of practice – which he could always get, now he knew he enjoyed it – he skated round the ice without mishap, not trying anything fancy, just enjoying talking to the other skaters.

 

He noticed out of the corner of his eye a figure that caught his attention…and had to blink hard. It was Mozzie, in a top hat and black coat and slim trousers and large white cravat tied with great care, skating all alone. Neal left Litha with a word of apology and skated after Mozzie, who wasn’t, luckily, skating at any speed, just seeming totally in the zone.

“Mozzie!” Neal called him.

 

“Yeah, Neal,” Mozzie answered, turning to look over his shoulder.

 

“You’re the ‘Skating Minister’ now?”

 

Mozzie grinned that little inward grin of his, as though everything was his private joke on the Universe. “I love that painting. And I _am_ internet-ordained!”

 

“But you’re good – even I can tell! I didn’t even know you skated!”

 

“Detroit, Neal. De- _troit!_ Very, very, _very_ cold. Coldest I’ve ever been, Detroit. One winter, the river was solid, there were ice-jams on Lake St Clair, both Erie and Huron were almost completely iced over and the wind off the water was as vicious as the Automobile Industry and Big Oil was to the environment!”

 

“So you, as a poor orphan boy, took up skating?”

 

“When you can’t walk because of the ice, Neal, you’d better know how to skate!”

 

“And where did you get the period-piece Presbyterian outfit?” Neal asked, giving up on the other discussion. You had to pick your battles, with Mozzie! He’d learnt that long ago!

 

“Lucilla copied the picture from June’s – sorry, _your_ loft. We’d been taking notes and making sketches for Lucilla on the Chrysler building. Sally saw it, she was studying it when I walked back in and she said, ‘Can you skate?’ and I said, ‘Yeah, I can skate’ and she said, ‘You could be him, you know. So self-contained.’ And I said, ‘He’s probably not totally self-contained. He’s probably talking to God…he’s a minister.’ And _she_ said, ‘So, skate and talk to God. Let’s do it, it’ll be fun! Brethsham’s got this skating picnic thing.’ So we did.”

 

“You and Sally did this ‘just for fun’?”

 

“You say it like I never do things just for fun!”

 

“No, no – you’ve drunk scores of assorted people of diverse nationalities under various tables, taken more individuals and whole tribes and clans for all their disposable income via games of so-called chance – which _sometimes_ were! - worked out ways into and out of every secure facility we wanted to get into and out of…I think those were all fun for you…but usually there was some sort of profit involved!”

 

“Fun and profit is the ultimate partnership, Neal!”

 

“Hmm…said something of that sort myself to someone recently!”

 

“Lucilla did good, didn’t she? It was fun just trying to explain the purpose of a top-hat to the poor woman, since – other than housing white rabbits – it is unknown!”

 

“You did replace it, the picture?” Neal’s tone was just a little anxious, and Mozzie tsk-tsked at him, mostly for the give-away in his voice.

 

“Neal! Of course I replaced it. It’s an original.”

 

Neal managed not to get tangled with a skating couple coming the other way which gave him time to get his breath. He rejoined Mozzie and said, quietly, “Didn’t know you knew.”

 

“It’s good, Neal.

.......“An’ aye, dinna tell the Scots! It’s verra, verra gud!”

 

“Thank you.”

 

 

Mozzie shot him a quick grin and skated a little faster, leaving Neal behind. Neal shook his head, watching an animated version of one of his favourite Earth paintings skate round an alien lake, then skated back to Litha.

 

“I promised Joster and Merritt I would take over from them and let them skate a while, Litha,” he told her.

 

“I can help!” she agreed. So when they saw the two men approaching, food-laden, they put on their coats and boots, took the trays, spread out the food on the heated rocks and helped themselves to a snack before walking back and collecting more food and drink.

 

“Can we please announce our engagement, please?” Litha asked. “All your relatives know now?”

 

“Steel Keep does not.”

 

She made a face. Her coat had a hood surrounded with white fur, sparkled with green crystals and she looked devastatingly pretty in it. “Sure of us you still are not.”

 

Neal tried to explain. “I feel as though I am sure. But – there was this woman, two women, really. The one I can excuse myself, I was very young and had extremely limited experience with females at all. I fell head over heels and became totally entangled with her. Her name was Kate. Know her at all I think I did not.

.......“And worse was a woman, later on, she seemed so perfect but she was lying to me about everything. She tricked me completely. She was a killer, and have a conscience she did not. I thought I was sure then, I – I – it hurt badly when I discovered I had been used.”

 

“I am not lying to you, Neal.” Here was the quiet gentlewoman he’d met at the first dance.

 

“I am sure you are not. It is me, my intuition, my instincts I question now. If we go ahead and I am wrong, I will hurt you and I do not want that.”

 

“I am sure we will suit.”

 

“You think we are like – we call it…um…soulmates? A single soul split in two, left to wander and be lonely unless they can find their ‘other half’.”

 

She turned so she could see him past her fur. “One man for one woman, no others will do?”

 

“Yes. Do you think of us like that, destined to be together? Two halves of a whole?”

 

“What a great deal of pressure you Earthlings seem to enjoy!” she laughed, suddenly. “No, no, no, Neal! If you choose not to be with me, I will be sad. I want you. I feel you are right for me. But I think your father’s father was foolish to never find another love when Caerralissia died. From the little I have heard, both he and your father would have been much happier if he had mourned her loss for as brief a time as possible and then, after perhaps a winter or two, found someone else to love. As I will if you choose not to be with me.

         “We are born to love, Neal – Earthlings and Laffays both. We love places, buildings, artwork, children, pets, friends, family – and our lovers. If I ask you what you are, Neal…?”

 

“I am an Earthling, a criminal, the heir to Steel Keep, son of a wonderful father…”

 

“I do not need a resume! If you found yourself on another planet, far from here and your Earth, what would you miss most, what would you yearn for?”

 

His vivid imagination supplied an image and he reacted immediately: “Mozzie! My Lord! June! – when I found myself here, I was with two other Earthlings, friends – but I knew not if Mozzie was alive or dead. He was in the back of my mind every moment.“

 

She interrupted him. “So what you are, more than anything, is the lover of Mozzie, your father, this June-lady, and others.”

 

He looked at her. “You are very clever, Litha. I will enjoy being married to a very clever wife.”

 

“Yes, I think you deserve a clever wife! Someone who can clearly convey certain truths you have for some reason missed.”

 

They were walking back to the kitchens by this time, and she snuggled up to him, swinging her empty tray with her other hand, and he put his arm round her and felt a great contentment come over him. This was no child-like Kate, no sly and calculating Rebecca! This was a whole person, young, fun and wise at once.

 

For the first time he imagined, really imagined, being with her, living with her: planting gardens and riding and showing her those things on Earth that he loved; cooking with her; laughing over wine and board-games with her and Mozzie and Sally; waking up with her on Christmas mornings, excited to have found a lovely gift for her…he had never done that with Rebecca – there was always the Marconi mystery right in front of them, an anklet on his leg. The theft of the gold coins could always be discovered or revealed by those who knew. The future had always seemed uncertain at best.

.......He had never done it with Kate. That dream had been a few flat pictures – the view from a window over the Cote d’Azur, a romanticised cottage with Kate dressed in broider Anglais over gingham with blue ribbons to match her eyes, baking bread in a farmhouse kitchen when he came home to her....

 

“I will try not to keep you waiting, Love.”

 

“Good. I feel I have waited long enough.”

 

When they entered the main building at Betchem, Lira and Kitran noticed and came over. Neal hugged them both while Litha looked on in surprise. Lira looked over at Litha and looked at Neal, smiled and nodded a little. Neal felt more confident. If Lira thought they were a good possible match, chances were excellent that they could make a long term union together.

 

 

Everyone had a glad time at the lake, and Lord Betchem was beaming. He loved playing host to a gathering, and somehow they had happened too seldom since the birth of his twelfth child, and especially since the deaths! Thank goodness that was all behind them!

 

 

 

Neal was absolutely delighted to be bringing his Great-Aunt home. He knew Ethlan would be thrilled. He was glad for his father that it was all in front of a crowd. But for himself, he would much rather have sneaked it into the Betchem family gallery in dead of night and let them find it the next time they looked at their family album. He didn’t like, wasn’t used to, public attention being drawn to his work. It felt too much like handcuffs clicking on his wrists!

 ......He had grown and moved forward as a man and an artist, but suspected that it might take the rest of his life to get over those associations, even if he never forged another painting…and _that_ thought made him sad. He had spent so much time learning his trade and he knew he was good at it!

 

Since there was no getting out of this, he allowed his men to dress him with care, ditched them, saying he wanted a little time alone (which they allowed him to have without comment) and managed to get to the Greatroom a little late, ignoring Brak and Steel’s – and Joster and Merritt’s - calls for him to appear! He slid in at the back of the crowd, behind a large Camberman he didn’t recognise, and caught a glimpse of his father and Lord Betchem looking around, but not wanting to make a scene.

 To his surprise, June was also there, with his father – well, that was right! She should be! He would probably be dead if it were not for dear, sweet June! But then Tammy, who had certainly not been with the Steel group earlier, went up to Lord Steel, and Neal’s heart fell. She hurried out, and, sure enough, next thing she was behind him!

 

“Neal!” she hissed, in English. “You are wanted down at the front!”

 

“Sh! I am hiding!”

 

“Yes, and you will probably get one if you do not come with me, so -!” And with that she grabbed his hand and he found himself in a coat closet just outside the Greatroom!

 

“Tammy!” he exclaimed. “You kidnapped me!”

 

“On the orders of my Lord! Now move it – go and join him, or I shall set Diana on you.”

 

Grumbling, Neal got out from amongst the coats and cloaks and, straightening his clothing and his hair, walked towards his father with, to Tamlin’s mingled frustration and amusement, all the confidence and pleasure in the world, as though there was nowhere else he’d rather be!

 

Lira and Kitran turned as he arrived, and smiled.

 

“Here he is!” Lord Betchem said.

 

“Yes, here he is…” Lord Steel raised his eyebrows at Neal.

 

June came over and squeezed his hand excitedly, and Diana gave him an exasperated frown. Theo, however, waved happily from her arms! Mozzie, Neal noticed, was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps the same disquiets stirred in his criminal soul!

 

“We are here to present to Betchem a special gift, in response to a fantastically wonderful gift they presented to Steel Keep,” Lord Steel said, his voice carrying through the large room with its lovely acoustics. “It is the work of my very talented son, Neal Caffrey Ellington-Steel, to give him his full title, and I am very pleased to give this to our good friends at Betchem, especially the Noble House of Betchem.

         “Unveil them, Neal!”

 

Neal went over to the easels and tugged the corded ropes which parted, showing the two paintings: the one of Lithalialista with the baby Ethlan in her arms and, of course, Caerralissia, both after the style of Sonsharelitha.

 

Neal hunched his shoulders and moved away as the crowd gasped and Lord and Lady Betchem moved in. They had neat little brass labels, and Lord Betchem said, “It is my lovely first wife, and our baby – Ethlan, it is _you_ , son!”

 

Neal moved further, but turned to enjoy Ethlan’s delight.

 

“And Neal – where did he go? He has copied Lord Steel’s mother as well! It is _beautiful!”_

 

“If you saw them together, truly, Lord Betchem, they are identical. He is so talented. I love him, of course, but also I am proud of him and his hard work and the artistic ability he has developed!” Steel was saying.

 

June appeared next to Neal and squeezed his arm even harder than before. “I am so proud of you, too, Neal. This is fantastic work! I am sure those who witnessed Michelangelo or Rembrandt or Rodin all felt this awe…truly, you are of the same magnitude, dearest.”

 

“Don’t be silly, June – but I am very grateful to you for saying so.”

 

“Don’t argue with someone with as much experience – and age – as have I, Neal! I am not an idiot! There is a time for humility and a time for honesty. You are a great artist.”

 

He looked down at her, leaned down to kiss her. “Just between you and me, Love, I think those portraits are very good.”

 

Lord Betchem motioned for quiet, which fell immediately, like a reverse Mexican wave, and he said,

         “We at Betchem thought the bravery of the sons of Steel warranted a special gift, so we gave Steel Keep a beautifully rendered portrait of my first wife’s sister, Lord Steel’s mother, done by certainly the most illustrious and well-thought-of artist of the modern age, Sonsharelitha, a name known to anyone with the slightest interest in art, and the recipient of more honours than any other Laffay, I believe.

         “Now I am no artist, no critic, but these look on a par with that great Laffay lady’s work, though I am sure my friends from Laffaysham will correct me!” He glanced over at the Laffays and was gratified at their expressions of astonishment as they gazed at Neal’s work. “Or…perhaps not?” Betchem continued. “Neal has replaced my first wife’s sister’s portrait with a signed copy - Sonsharelitha is well-known for not signing her work -  and has, in addition, added a portrait of my first wife, Lithalialista, who died not long after her sister. We have not had a good portrait of her, nor one of her with her youngest, my son Ethlan, though we have group portraits of her with her older children.

         “I ask you to help me thank Lord Steel and his son, Neal, and Steel Keep for these truly fabulous gifts.”

 

There was a swell of applause, and people patted Neal on the back and he nodded in thanks. He enjoyed being appreciated…by June, by his Lord, especially by Mozzie. Not by crowds. He liked people, he truly did, in ones or small groups…not crowds. Although he _was_ glad that his Lord had asked Thervessalon to attend!

 

His father joined him and made it known by a look that he expected Neal to graciously accept all the thanks and acclaim on his work. Since it was a rather large gathering, it took time. Lord Betchem, Ambreth, Ethlan and Lady Betchem all came and hugged them both, and Neal stepped aside for a moment to remind Lord Betchem that he was in his debt for the new gathering he was going to hold for him.

         “If you and your elegant lady wish, I could complete the set with a portrait of yourself, Sir, and one of the present Lady Betchem.”

 

“I would like that very much, Neal. You are an asset to Steel Keep.”

 

“I think my Lord purchased me in the hopes of such, Lord!” Neal grinned. “Though he admits he often buys…unknown goods in a crate, I think he called it.”

 

“Sometimes we take risks. Sometimes they pay off. It is gratifying!” Lady Betchem told him, joining them. “You know Caerrovon loves you a great deal, son?”

 

He smiled at her and nodded a little shyly and she thought to herself that she had never seen a more handsome man, and that the young Laffay girl had good taste! If he was half as nice as he seemed…

 

Then the Laffays arrived, Litha winking at Neal from the back of the group. Thervessalon Laffay stepped forward and said, “I asked my father if I could speak first. I remember I arrogantly told you that we liked to think all the great artists came from Laffaysham – and we certainly have a goodly number. But these portraits you have done, capturing Sonsharelitha’s technique and attention to detail, truly you have done her memory justice.”

 

“Thank you, Thervessalon! I am honoured that you think so! I wanted to try and learn what I could from her – from her portrait of my grandmother. Then, since Lord Betchem had so kindly given her to my father, I wanted to try and reproduce that quality for him as best I could.”

 

All the Laffays said something pleasant, though Neal again was left with the impression that not only had he failed to win over Barstellon, but had perhaps made the problem worse! Lady Laffay whispered in his ear, “If you choose Aramalitha for your wife, you will be a welcome son at Laffaysham, Neal. Not only for your artistic ability: you formal manners are a credit to your father and your Keep even though my husband likes to tease you about your casual demeanour!”

 

 

As soon as there was a break in the queue of people wanting to thank him or esteem him, Neal turned to his father with slightly wild eyes and asked, “Help! Can we leave now! _Please?_ ”

 

“You do not enjoy all the attention, Neal?” Steel grinned.

 

“No. I have lived much of my life in the shadows and that is where I feel most comfortable, I believe!”

 

“You know, _I_ believe Litha is looking just a little faint, Neal…why do you not take her to the kitchens and make sure she eats something and drinks some tea. It is still a half-candlemark till she must dress for dinner, and I think she probably has not eaten for some time.”

 

“Oh, I agree. Will you do me the honour of dealing with the guests for me, my Lord?” Neal asked, formally.

 

“I shall. Shoo!”

 

Neal took Litha’s arm, and certainly, she seemed very grateful for his whispered concern, and certainly, she seemed quite weak and had to lean heavily on him. Lord Steel’s smile was a little wider than necessary as he spoke to a new group of Betchemen!

 

The dinner was a sumptuous affair, followed by dancing in the now-cleared Greatroom, though the two portraits had been placed in an alcove with a guard standing on either side in case of mishaps. Neal danced with Litha, Tammy, Diana, June and Sally – Mozzie was not dancing – and Floretha and a number of women he only knew a little by sight. Everyone seemed happy and well-fed and it was a real celebration, small by Betchem standards, though Neal was not to know this. Lord Steel danced with Ladies Betchem and Laffay and Camber as well as many other less powerful women present. It was not as though any of them had much time for dancing over the years!

 

Lira and Kitran smiled kindly upon their human friends having a pleasant time and went and sang for anyone who wished to come. Neal would have gone, but his bruises seemed trivial and he was enjoying the dancing with all the pretty girls and elegant women, all feeling wonderful in their specially created ball-gowns.

 

By the time most of the Steel contingent made its way up to the suites, Neal was tired. Happy, but tired. He hugged Litha, who also was looking forward to catching up on the sleep they had missed on the previous night, and they parted. Then she ran back and said, “I love you – and your work is extraordinary. I hope we marry, Neal – I love you, but I will also enjoy bragging about you! You are so young and have made such a mark on our Keeps already!”

 

Neal joined the Lord, Brak, Sally, Tammy, Diana - and Theo, who had been sleeping with all the other children in the Betchem nursery, looked after by their governesses and nurses, and so was now wide awake! Brak, Joster and Merritt poured them all tea and wine.

 

“Does Ophera never leave Steel?” Neal asked, almost falling into a big chair and stretching like a cat.

 

“Seldom, Neal. She feels it is her place to look after the Keep in our absence,” Brak told him. “She prefers the family, not large crowds.”

 

“Neal is of the same opinion,” the Lord told him.

 

“I like the dancing. Mind the crowd I do not, if all looking at me they are not!

.......“June has gone to her room?”

 

“I bounced June home. She was tired and said she feels happier at Steel or Earth,” Tammy said.

 

“Oh, thank you! I should have noticed she was getting tired!” Neal said, guiltily.

 

“She knew you were the centre of the evening, Neal!” Diana said, cuddling her baby. “Look how big our boy is getting!”

 

“Where is Moz?” Neal enquired. “I thought when there was wine being poured - ?”

 

At that moment Mozzie slipped in the door. He smiled round, took Theo and settled him on his lap, telling him how clever and perfect he was before taking a glass of wine from Neal.

 

“The Laffays told me several times how magnificent your work is,” the Lord told Neal. “And I think Lord Betchem is extremely touched and grateful, as is my great friend Ethlan. Thank you, Neal, from all of Steel Keep and your family there!”

 

“I shall do as Sonsharelitha did and do portraits for Keeps that cooperate with Steel, my Lord. I shall snub without hesitation or compunction those who are less than friendly with us and the Alliance Keeps!”

 

“Artistic bribery and corruption!” Diana smiled widely. “Your old handler would be impressed! – you have founded a completely new art crime!”

 

“Call it new when Sonsharelitha invented it you can not!” Neal grinned at her, thinking how beautiful she was now, with her family around her.

 

“I will bet you will put new twists on it, Neal Caffrey! I have every faith in you!” Di retorted, and Mozzie said, “I think he probably already has, and your faith is misplaced not, LadySuit!”

 

They started to leave the main room to get ready for bed. Mozzie joined Neal in his room and quietly asked Merritt and Joster to leave.

 

“What, Moz?” Neal queried. “I really am a little tired after going out and learning to skate last night, and all the excitement today.”

 

“This will take but a moment, Neal. The portraits have been hung in the gallery and the door is guarded, as a token of the Lord’s esteem – Betchem, that is. But no-one is _in_ the gallery. Please – accompany me?”

 

“Tomorrow, Mozzie! Please? My bed isn’t calling – it’s yelling at me!”

 

“Come, Neal!” ordered Moz, and Neal fell into old patterns of obedience and let him take his arm and jumped him into the gallery. The door was tightly closed, and Moz held up the light-bugs he’d brought. They looked at some other paintings for a few minutes – it was a wonderful collection – and then Mozzie stood before Neal’s two gifts to the Keep. He smiled a little. Lithalialista was lovely, her face soft and gentle as she drank in the sweet face of her baby son. Caerralissia stood invitingly in her frame, as beautiful as ever. Somehow, in the dim light, the figures emerged almost as though they were softly lit from behind, like the perfected angel spirits of the women. Mozzie shook his head. His ‘protégé’ had exceeded even his ambitions for him! These were both truly masterpieces!

 

Mozzie handed the light-bug globes to Neal and went closer to Caerralissia’s feet. Neal watched, enjoying himself.

         “Your work is truly magnificent, as everyone has said, Neal,” Mozzie told him. “A perfect copy of Sonsharelitha, this portrait of Caerrovon’s mother. Perhaps too perfect, which is why you signed it.”

 

He glanced back and Neal’s face straightened magically as he nodded his thanks.

 

“I only have one question, Neal…”

 

“Mmmhmm…?”

 

“Why,” Mozzie asked, touching the signature, “is it signed…” he put his finger in his mouth… “with chocolate sauce?”

 

Neal laughed. “No-one else _noticed!_ _”_ he exclaimed in delight.

 

“I’m assuming this is the _real_ Sonsharelitha, the original?”

 

Neal nodded. “I wanted something that would definitely wash off. I’ve used it before as temporary paint. I may want to take this one back to Steel, you see.”

 

“But how did you – how did the Empaths and Sensitives not know?”

 

“I told you, I got into her head, into her heart. I really think she was there, helping me. It confused the energies. Or something…”

 

“But what a risk, Neal! – our father would have been mortified if someone had pointed it out!”

 

“No. There was no risk. I wasn’t at Steel when the paintings were packed up, I did not go too near them after they were unveiled. You know that when I first displayed them to my Lord, I had my copy in the original carved wood frame to trick him into giving an unbiased reaction to my work, so … it was never swopped over, I wasn’t there – a natural mistake was made by the slaves.”

 

“ ‘He says, off-handedly’!” Mozzie exclaimed.

 

“ ‘He says, off-handedly’! Neal agreed. “Very hard to disprove, don’t you think?”

 

“So LadySuit is correct – your old handler would be perhaps impressed, more likely appalled! You’ve taken art forgery to a whole new level!”

 

“Thank you, Moz! My harshest critic, my most loyal advocate! And why is Diana suddenly LadySuit?”

 

“Just because she brought to mind _That_ Suit!”

 

“Ah.”

 

“Haven’t seen him?”

 

“No.” Neal sighed. “I sometimes miss the Peter I thought existed. Like Rebecca, you know?”

 

“The Suit would _love_ the comparison!”

 

“Come, I honestly need to get some sleep, Moz! I have a great deal to do in the next couple of tendays.”

 

Mozzie shook his head. “Chocolate sauce! Seriously? Only you, Neal! I applaud your absolute cheek!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

End of Chapter 40

 

 

Thank you, all of you who so generously commented! I was feeling lonely!

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The picture of the Skating Minister is one of only a few named that were on the walls of Neal's appartment. Matt wanted it when the set was broken down (sniff!) but Willie had always expressed his love for it, so Matt made sure he got it. This is a little tip-of-the-top-hat to the apartment, and the painting and their RL friendship. 
> 
> Note to the Scots: to the best of my knowledge, it was and remained a print, (but who am I to say?) And no, I don't know Willie's address (Sadly), or which safehouse he keeps it in! 
> 
> Thanks to wikipedia for the image.


	41. The End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Says it all.

 

 

 

 

 

When Lord Steel and all the Steel Keepers left Betchem day after next, Litha begged to accompany them, but Neal gave her a hug and shook his head.

 

“Darling girl, everything has happened so fast! I know it feels not that way to you, but I need a little time to think and talk to my father and brother. Do you realise I have never – never! – been part of a long term relationship with a woman? Never been part of a relationship with a woman that either of us saw as an engagement, a promise of anything but just tomorrow, perhaps! …I have to think this through!”

 

“Well, you have slept with women! I have never had a long term relationship with a man, or any sort of relationship with a man!”

 

“Yes, but you know how it feels from other people around you, do you not?”

 

“Ye-es,” sulkily.

 

Neal grinned at her. “I do not have that ability. And truly, I have so very many things to do and plan in the next little while! And pretend not to sulk! I know you are disappointed that we are not married, but I believe I shall see you very shortly, at the next gathering here?”

 

“If I have to walk, Neal.”

 

“Send word and I shall send a sleigh!” Neal chuckled.

 

“Love you, Neal, son of Steel!”

 

“I love you, too, Litha of Laffaysham!”

 

She kissed him on the cheek, turned and left him, waving over her shoulder.

 

 

 

Neal did indeed have a great deal to do! He had spoken to Lira and Kitran before they had left, and he asked Mozzie to draw up calendars for Earth and Brethsham, as he was getting confused as anything by the time differences, and it was about to become critical!

 

Lira and Kitran had both been happy to help him, to jump him round the planet for a day, …but that was only one problem taken care of! He went to Italy and then several places around the world checking on things he’d ordered…and then to Sunder, taking some of the platinum and gold with him again.

 

_I need to keep my affairs separate from Steel Keep’s, I think. I must ask my Lord and perhaps Mozzie…he’s keeping tabs on us, now._

Then he asked his Lord if they could go for a ride together. “I need to exercise my horses, fair it is not to expect others to do it if I am here, and I wish to speak privately, my Lord.”

 

Though it was very cold, the sky was free of clouds and there was no wind, so they could take the horses outside which was far nicer than trying to get them sufficient exercise in the covered arenas, which, though quite large, were nothing to a large, swift steed! Neal had not learnt to lunge his horses yet, and they much preferred to be out if the weather permitted.

         Neal dressed in his warmest fur-filled jacket and pulled the hood as far forward as possible. The gloves he wore were also so thick that he could hardly keep contact with the horse’s mouth!

His father glanced across and smiled to himself. He did not think the day particularly frigid, but his Earthling son obviously did! He reached over and fiddled by Neal’s cheek and pulled out a soft wool face-piece that he fastened to the other side of the hood, leaving Neal’s blue eyes free to see, though the fur reached several inches forward. Immediately Neal felt warmer, and the eyes smiled at him.

 

They walked for a while, then trotted the horses, then let them out. The horses always chose to gallop in the soft snow, their padded feet were more suited to that, but it was crusted over and the sound their feet made was different to anything Neal had heard.

 

They eased back and Steel glanced over. “You are weathering this cold, son?”

 

Neal turned so he could see Steel and the corners of his eyes crinkled. “You are not even wearing your furs, my Lord! I know to you it is a mildly nippy day!”

 

Steel nodded. “But were I to visit your planet and go to places you consider merely warm, I should no doubt be uncomfortably hot!”

 

“True. I prefer this: at least we can dress up in furs and wools and - feathers.” He realised half the way through the sentence that he did not know the Sheel word for down, or feathers, and had to resort to an English word.

 

Steel’s eyes questioned him and he answered, “We do not use as varied a list of furred animals, though we have many. We use ‘feathers’, the covering of birds, and also just the softest parts of certain ‘feathers’, we call it ‘down’, sewn into packets of fabric made into coats, bed-coverings, things of that nature.”

 

They ambled along and Neal began to feel the cold as the breeze lifted a little. “My Lord,” he said, and hesitated.

 

Steel glanced across again. Like so many others, he had loved the exterior first: the blue eyes, the charming smile, the charisma that was a rainbow cloak shifting around him. Then he had been forced to admire the mental virtuosity, the quick grasp and thrust, like his own fine sword. Those had come first because his Neal had tried hard to keep his soft, gentle heart deep and hidden. Having seen the childhood that shaped him, and knowing jigsaw pieces from winters since, he understood the survival instinct. And when Neal let him share that heart he had felt it was a gift as unique as few others.

 

Neal had shared his heart. Mozzie had shared his trust. Steel gathered his reins a little and smiled to himself, waiting for Neal to continue.

 

It had jolted him when he saw Neal’s childhood, but more, his own. He hadn’t realised that he had felt so alone. Brak was his father’s man, his friends at Betchem and Camber and Laffaysham had their place and families that gathered around them. The older he became, the more distinct he had felt at his own Keep, and always a visitor elsewhere, however they tried to include him.

 

Jarad had been his friend. Perhaps sadly, nothing more. Later he had chosen his wife-to-be, and his time with Steel became more limited.

 

At his father’s death, Brak and Ophera had withdrawn, and without realising it, he had struggled to feel at home at Steel, his own Keep! Slowly he settled. Jarad, though, had moved to Sea Keep at Steel’s insistence on the occasion of his marriage.

 

Steel was cheerful and relatively undemanding, and his people loved him, trusted him, stood by him.

 

But nothing like Neal had loved him.

 

He sighed. Just like Jarad, Neal was choosing a wife and though his son had been busy and in demand on Earth and here, there had been an intimacy between them. Each could be vulnerable in the other’s space, comfortable.

 

Neal would always be there, always love him, but…Neal’s deepest heart would go to Litha – as it should be. And if Neal had, by the fortunes of the universe, been a woman, would they ever have developed this love?

 

_Now I am becoming depressed. And that is selfish. He looks so happy when they are together._

Neal realised that minutes had passed and said, “Sorry. Do not know quite where to start. Litha…”

 

“Yes, Neal, I saw. She loves you.”

 

“And she is lovely and very special. Not all the Laffay girls are like that, are they?”

 

Steel grinned. “No, they are not!” He waited, but Neal said nothing, so he asked, “Do you love her, Neal?”

 

“Would it not be nice to have a manual?”

 

“A – ?”

 

“I feel about her as I have never felt about a woman. They are all different, bring different things to a relationship, ask different things from it…of course. I feel more comfortable with her than the others, even though I know not what she will do next!”

 

Steel smiled a little bitterly, considering his earlier thoughts. Nothing leaked into his voice and he wondered if his sons’ skills were rubbing off on him! “That is most important, Neal.”

 

“Yes, I think it is. Now I have a few questions.”

 

“I hope I can answer, Neal – you may well have much more experience than do I…?”

 

Neal turned and his eyes lit up. “Silly!” he said, and it was a term of affection. “Firstly, a very simple question I feel I cannot ask Litha! At least when she wishes to be betrothed!

........“Is marriage for life, here? What if she is wrong, if I am too immature, and we do not suit?”

 

Steel asked thoughtfully, “Marriage is not for life on Earth…”

 

“Not in my culture. People live together without marriage, they marry and then more often than not they un-marry again. Now obviously, Father, they thought they were perfectly suited before they married…! Yet no. I would truly hate to be married to Litha – for her sake or mine – and not be right for each other.”

 

Steel answered, “Most of us try to stay married. I think our culture changed a little…during the Keep Wars, men were so often away, either fighting, training, or distracted. Women, too…things were urgent and we held close and dear our friendships and loves. That is still at work in our society, but is fading.

         “But it is not unheard of for couples to, as you called it, un-marry. Especially from different Keeps.

........“Now it is thought a good thing for us to mingle our bloodlines, just as with our horses! That is why my father, a very hard Steel, if you will, chose a Laffay woman. And she loved him and her understanding made their union work, she moulded herself around his inflexibility. But that is not always possible and it is not unheard of or even thought to be amiss if the woman returns to her home.

         “Does that ease your concerns, Neal?”

 

“Very much, my Lord!”

 

“I am glad, son.”

 

“There is something else…”

 

Steel waited and this time Neal went on, though his throat was closed. “I have been on my own for a long time. A few flirtations, a few affairs before, I am not a virgin, but it has been years…. I am so close to Mozzie and Sally, Diana and her family, and you…I know this sounds like a silly, childish question, but it is truly something I have never faced – really faced – before.”

........He took a deep breath and said, “The only time I have felt this, and on a far more shallow level, is when Mozzie had obtained,” He smiled, though the fur hid his face, Steel could hear it in his voice, ........“…obtained a great deal of wealth, like catching an enormous fish, one on which we could feast for the rest of our lives! It was our dream, when we were young criminals together and he achieved it! He is a genius, that friend of mine!

........“At the time, I was finding many things about New York that I loved: June, her house where I lived – and still live, there – and I believed that Peter and Elizabeth were becoming friends.    

........“I had to make a decision. Perhaps I made the wrong one. I felt my heart was torn. I love Mozzie, you know, my Lord, he has been my family since I came to New York. But so was June, and – and – I chose to stay in New York and let Mozzie go without me.

........“Well, a bad man kidnapped Elizabeth and my dearest friend gave up his big fish to free her, so my decision was annulled.”

 

They rode together, and Steel was aware of the quietness of the snowy landscape other than the odd sound of the horses’ feet breaking the snow and swishing out of it, the undulating, powerful muscles beneath them…

 

“I find myself wondering how having a wife,” Neal burst out, “will perhaps spoil my closeness with Mozzie, and with you.”

 

“If it is worth it, is it this you ask?”

 

“Exactly. I have never felt this, never had this level of decision… my life was very fluid, only Mozzie and I remaining in touch. Then there was the time I was tied to NY. But nothing like this, Lord! I love you and Mozzie and so many people – and most relationships are not so close as to be damaged, unless my wife and my friend do not agree.”

 

“Mozzie has Sally.”

 

“He does. And I adore Sally! But – it is really you, my Lord! And I know you will find yourself a wife! I hope so!”

 

“Mm.”

 

“I would rather not have a wife than lose the unusual closeness we share, my Lord,” Neal finally said, directly. “I really never had a family before you. You have even welded my friendship and brotherhood with Mozzie.”

 

Steel chuckled a little. “No. That is a loving and dear thing to say, Neal, but it is not sensible. You would come to resent me, and what if I died? I have come to know that you are brilliant with things of the mind, talented with things of the body, with some exceptions, such as skating! – but your heart…your emotions are clouded because you had so little to trust.

         “Will you trust me? We may spend less time together, you will have a wife, a home, children. But remember my mother – even death cannot divide those who love, Neal.”

 

Neal pulled his horse to a stop and Steel’s halted, too, in response. He turned and studied Steel, again those piercing and acute blue eyes. “You believe – do you think June is right, Byron was right, we will always be together?”

 

“You will have to ask June! I am not a student of such things! But – can you imagine that something as strong and all-powerful as love just ceases to exist, if anything at all remains?”

 

Neal smiled. “Perhaps you are right! So I am thinking we have limited time and perhaps that is a myth…hmm, that changes things. Perhaps there is time enough in eternity!”

 

They started off again, the horses became restless and they eased them up to a canter on the flat road, where the snow was soft and thin over the hard-packed middle.

 

When they got back to the stables, and finished bedding down their steeds, the Lord said quietly, “So – Litha?”

 

Neal nodded. “I think so, my Lord.”

 

“Are you coming in?”

 

“No, I will take Simma out, my Lord.

         “Oh, my Lord, is there some reason that the Laffaysham second heir loathes me? For as far as I know I have done him no harm.”

 

“I am not sure, my son, but if I were to guess – I think it may have something to do with upon whom Aramalitha has focussed her affections?”

 

“Oh!” Neal said, surprised. His Lord grinned and strode off.

 

 

 

Neal saddled up the pretty grey stallion, attached the loaded saddle-bags and then saw that Mozzie was standing in the aisleway. “Moz! I was just going out. Did you need me for something?”

 

“You have been jumping here, there and everywhere! I just wanted to talk.”

 

“Can you wait till I return? I feel bad that, with all the jumping about, I have neglected my mounts, left them to other slaves.”

 

“If your lovely but very large boy will not mind shortening his stride, I could take out my little Midge.”

 

Neal was about to put his foot in his mouth, noting that there were plenty of children who rode Midge, but he merely saddled the small mare for Mozzie while Mozzie went and collected cold weather gear.

 

Soon Simma was doing a nice collected trot next to Midge’s canter! Neal was continually surprised at how much Mozzie had adapted to the more physical life at Steel! But then, in the middle of some heist, when something had gone awry and strength and speed were needed, Mozzie had often surprised him by handling that, as well! Indolence was merely another con, for Mozzie, though how he kept in shape was a total mystery to Neal!

 

When they took a breather, Mozzie and Neal discussed Litha. Sally liked her; Mozzie said they laughed a great deal together.

 

“That always scares me a little!” Neal admitted.

 

“Yeah! But better that than they are overly polite and never talk again! You know they’re going to talk about us: women do.”

 

“Um…?” Neal again stopped himself.

 

“I read. It’s a psychological fact, Neal. Earthling human females reduce stress and feel connected by talking to each other. Men not so much. On average, of course.”

 

Neal said nothing.

 

They had reached the point where they were going to turn back, furthest from the Keep. Neal had brought little gifts and sweets for the tenant farmers and their children and they had stopped at each house in this length. Thus the sky was darkening.

 

“We should try and hurry back,” Neal commented, a little concerned about the much smaller Midge.

 

“Look, other travellers are out,” Mozzie said, trying to push back his hood a little to see. “Are they tenant farmers, or merchants? They have a wagon.”

 

Neal and Mozzie pulled their horses to a halt and Neal called, “Hallo! Are you travelling far?”

 

“No, we have come to our destination,” the leader said.

 

“Oh?” Neal was distracted because Mozzie’s horse became restless, and started to back.

 

“Sons of Steel, I am right?” the man asked, and now Neal was feeling the same unease.

 

“Yes. Who are you?”

 

“Does not matter. Please do nothing to annoy us. We have something you would not like to lose.”

 

“How dare you!” Neal said, sitting up very straight, all his instincts as the heir of the Keep coming to the fore.

 

“We dare because we must. If you try to run, if you fight, if you do anything but comply, we will kill the children.”

 

The man’s voice was so calm and conversational that it took Mozzie and Neal a moment to take in this threat.

 

“You lie!” Mozzie said, his voice filled with anger. “You cannot have the children.”

 

“See for yourselves,” another man said, and waved.

 

Mozzie and Neal turned to see where he was pointing, but could only just see a crowd of shorter beings, herded together, on the furthest hill. They glanced at each other, trying to work out a plan.

 

“Trust me,” the first man said, “we wish not to harm children. They are far enough away that they will not be alarmed when we kill you. But there are enough men with them that if you resist, if you yell for help from the farmers closest by – and I do not think they will hear you – we will kill some of them.”

 

“Kill us? But why? Who are you and what have we ever done to you?”

 

“We are patriotic Brethshamen. We have seen how you people from Earth have taken positions from our people, worked your way into the hearts of the nobles.”

 

Mozzie felt his blood turn to ice. When people started talking about defending their causes, be it religion, country or whatever, they usually neglected normal restraints, felt that any action was allowable.

 

“But – but we were abducted by Slavers,” Neal told him, confused.

 

“Oh, yes – but most of your people left, did they not? You stayed. They will probably return when you have consolidated your position of power here.”

 

“Crazy as a loon,” Mozzie whispered to Neal. “What do we do?”

 

“I am armed, but the children – they are too far away,” Neal whispered back. “If we jump to them, the men there will have a chance to kill at least some, perhaps many…do you have your ear-bug?”

 

Mozzie shook his head. “If we were good telepaths, we could tell Tammy the whole story, but better not to call anyone. The men will hear them coming…the children must be our first concern.”

 

“You will dismount and give us your horses. We will return them to Steel. If you resist or fight in any way, we will give the signal and the children will suffer.

........“We will continue to rid the planet of Earthlings after we have taken care of you, but the two of you are the ring-leaders. You have the greatest power amongst the Earthlings and you destroyed our plan with the plants and killed our men.”

 

“That was _you,_ ” Mozzie said it, his voice flat. “You killed my friend.”

 

“But not dead enough. The Chiri witches healed him. We have waited a long time to get the two of you alone. This time there will be no escape. We will not hurt you, we are not cruel. But you will die today, here. If your blood does not stain the snow, trust me in this: the blood of the children will – and then our countrymen will see you for what you are and kill you themselves! You should have left for Earth.

........“Dismount.”

 

Neal and Mozzie exchanged another look and dismounted. If there was one thing they both knew: this kind of fanatic was single- minded and could not be conned: they did not want money, fame, good food or large cars - they only needed to further their cause.

 

“If we jump, they will kill the children,” Mozzie groaned, quietly. “And if we call for Lira or Tammy – anything will set them off. This isn’t badly planned. It’s simple and because of their ideology, we have nothing to offer them. We need a miracle!”

 

Two of the silent minions took the reins of the horses and led them away. The men stood in a circle, not sure yet what Neal and Mozzie might do.

 

“Can we write notes to our loved ones?” Neal asked, trying to buy time.

 

“No. Sorry,” the man seemed sincere. “But you are notorious for trickery and lies. Which is why we are here in all our force. Some of us have stopped our ears against your trickery, so try nothing.”

 

“He knows us so well,” Mozzie said to Neal, and Neal grinned at him. Suddenly they both relaxed, and the men each took a step away from them, their suspicions mounting.

 

“Remember the children. Our men over there will hear us shout.”

 

“Oh, button it, Hitler!” Mozzie told him, and the Earthlings both laughed, to the men’s complete confusion and consternation.

 

“What did you say about a happy ending depending on where you choose to end the story?” Neal asked of his friend, totally ignoring the warriors standing about them, armed to the teeth. “Do you consider this a good place to end it?”

 

Mozzie looked about. “Not bad. Kind of a blank-slate look to it. Blank canvas, awaiting a new and more pleasing image. Yeah, not bad. Of course, Hemingway observed, ‘… all stories, if continued far enough, end in death, and he is no true-story teller who would keep that from you.’ I didn’t add that bit, before, seemed a little negative, but it isn’t really…if there’s no other option out of life, why not take it now rather than later?”

 

“That’s what I said before, when I was sleeping with the plants!

         “Hemmingway liked cats with extra toes, but hadn’t the advantage of June’s wisdom!

         “And, Whitman said, ‘Nothing can happen more beautiful than death.’”

 

“Good one! We’re having a quote-off about death – way to go! I ‘specially like some of Steven Wright’s thoughts: firstly, I remember one that went, ‘Sometimes I wish my first word was 'quote,' so that on my death bed, my last words could be 'end quote.' And here I am, quoting him!”

 

“Oh, I _bet_ you wish _you’d_ said that!” Neal laughed.

 

“I do, I do!”

 

“What was the other? He’s great!”

 

“ ‘When I die, I'm leaving my body to science fiction.’”

 

“He’s a national treasure, is he not? I wager _your_ favourite death quote is, ‘The only difference between death and taxes is that death doesn't get worse every time Congress meets.’ Am I right?”

 

“Since the only taxes I have ever paid are the sales and service taxes I literally cannot avoid by stealing rather than buying, it is of intellectual interest merely,” Mozzie said, studying his fingernails.

 

“Be quiet!” yelled the leader, not knowing how he had come to lose control of the situation.

 

“You can kill us, you …person, you!…any time you like,” Neal turned and told him, “but you cannot keep us from sharing our thoughts. I have been imprisoned, I have been abducted and enslaved. You will never take my friend from me, nor our thoughts from one another. There is a line I will no longer cross!”

 

“I wish I was allowed to write that one down!” Mozzie said, a little sadly. “It is as good as most others we’ve thought of!”

 

Neal gave him a hug and said, “As if you will not remember it, word for word, inflection for inflection - and I am sure will quote it in the Halls of Valhalla – or wherever we end up!

         “You know, I find I am not at all afraid and though I shall miss a wedding night with Litha, this is not bad as a method and time for death. And my company can not be improved upon!”

 

“Quite right! Better these lunatics killing us for a mad reason than an American cop shooting us and causing us to fall fourteen floors with a recently liberated and irreplaceable Qing Dynasty vase of exquisite beauty! That I would regret.”

 

“True. ‘And how can man die better than facing fearful odds, for the ashes of his fathers, and the temples of his Gods?’ – though there are no temples or ashes, but it has lovely cadence, yes, that quote?”

 

“So here we are, after all we have been through, with no way out, am I correct?”

 

“As ever, Mozzie. And, in case you are not aware, a fitting end – the result of a _conspiracy!”_

 

“I noticed. A kind of mordant mockery by the universe, all things considered. And which many would call irony, and that alone gives me comfort that I am about to die, that education has deteriorated so.”

 

“So – you and I here, at the end of time.”

 

“Indeed. A good life, my friend.”

 

“Which remark some _may_ think ironic, considering our profession!”

 

“Goodbye…see you on the other side if there is one, and we won’t worry if there is not!” Neal said.

 

Mozzie nodded sagely. “We win!”

 

They turned as one to the leader of the men standing before them and Neal, always the designated spokesman of the duo, said, “You may go ahead now. The children are probably getting cold.”

 

Somehow their attitude gave their captors pause. There was a moment of complete silence other than the hiss of the wind, which began to rise.

 

Mozzie took Neal’s hand. The armed men, each holding a sword, moved towards them, determined.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Steel and Brak were walking towards the study. Brak said, “I quite thought Neal was going to be joining us.”

 

Steel frowned a little. “He was exercising Simma. Strange that appear he has not…but you know my sons! They jump from Keep to Keep, from planet to planet!”

 

“True. It is far from restful! They have changed our society, you know, more than one might have expected, just the two of them.”

 

“They think in a different manner to other men I have met. It is hard to keep up with them.”

 

“You still think, Caerrovon, that you were wise to choose them for sons and heirs?”

 

Steel laughed. “Wise…of that I am not sure. Let me just say that I am glad that I did!”

 

“ _I_ think that it would be a good thing if the father organised the births of the children of his body before the son!” Brak commented, drily.

 

“You have been listening to Ophera, Brak!”

 

“We merely want grandchildren from you, personally, though we love your adopted heirs, Caerrovon, and if we disliked them, we would still love them because they love you. And make you laugh!”

 

“For many reasons, Brak!”

 

Brak got to the study door and pushed it open for Steel, and then realised that Steel was standing stock-still in the corridor, his eyes unfocussed.

 

“Caerrovon?” Brak asked, unnerved.

 

“T-tell Tamlin,” Steel said, his voice sounding strange even in his own ears. “They…are in trouble….”

 

“Who - ”

 

“My sons…but there is no time.”

 

“Caer – !”

**“ _No time!”_**

****

Brak stared in horror at empty space where Steel had been.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Neal could smell the breath of the leader. Stared into his pale blue eyes, saw sadness there…sadness that he felt he had to kill, but implacable resolve, too.

 

“Sorry,” Neal said to his killer.

 

The man’s mouth thinned and tightened, he drew his sword back enough to plunge it into Neal’s mid-section. Neal couldn’t help but flinch –

                         - everyone looked up, stunned! Above them, tangerine gold and white, spread a huge being of light and fire! Within Mozzie and Neal a warmth, not unlike sexual desire but a thousand times magnified, leapt to join it. Then it felt like a silent explosion, a blinding shock wave, a dome flashing away from them in all directions –

 

\- and then there was a deafening silence and three shivering humans crouched together in the middle of an immense circular patch of scorched dirt surrounded by starkly white snow.

 

 

 

Neal gasped, “The children…” and struggled to sit up. Supporting each other like a wobbly tripod, they managed to stand, and gazed in horror and astonishment at the area of destruction of which they were the epicentre.

 

“I guess that answers the question as to whether the fire-angel symbiote, as you call it, Neal, can live in humans.” Steel was whispering hoarsely.

 

“Just needed some activation,” Mozzie said, and coughed. Neal was feeling more than a little sick. There were bodies thrown backwards all around them. Black, incinerated bodies like charred pumice.

 

_Pompeii!_

It smelt a little too much like an airfield, long ago…he turned away, fell to hands and knees and vomited, violently, and it didn’t feel as though his body had enough energy to do so. When he couldn’t heave any more, he took Steel’s offered kerchief and wiped his mouth. He forced himself to stand and look out at the children…what if those men…?

 

But there were no men there. Just the children and one poor, terrified woman who had been taken captive with them. The blackened circle extended well past where the children were gathered, paralysed in shock.

 

The children started down towards them, and Steel stood up straight by will alone and called, “No. Stay where you are!”

 

The children stopped on a Mark.

 

“The value of an authoritarian society!” managed Mozzie.

 

“They don’t need to see this!” Neal said. “But, Moz, at least we have the ash, now!”

 

“There are at least three men dead around them,” Moz pointed out. “They have a vantage point, they can see perfectly the area around us.”

 

“That is true,” Steel nodded. “Can we walk, together? Let us get closer to them, between the corpses.”

 

Holding each other they stumbled forward. At last Steel gestured and the children ran to them and cuddled round them like freezing kittens, almost unbalancing the depleted men. The teacher, Sherran, stopped herself from throwing herself at them, but Neal could tell it was a close thing!

 

“I am so sorry, my Lord! They took us all by surprise…”

 

“Be not silly, Sherran,” the Lord said. “They are the murderers who killed Neal before. I am so glad you were with the children!”

 

Neal and Mozzie were feeling very weak and light-headed. Perhaps the Lord was, also, but he managed to appear strong for the children. The Lord glanced back and said, “They must have had a bomb with them.”

 

Neal caught Junoel’s eye and the boy winked. Neal only just stopped himself from bursting out laughing. Kids picked up everything! Hard to con unless there was magic involved! The older ones at least knew all about the Steel Gift!

 

“Sorry, my Lord, Neal – we had no weapons with us, or we would not have been such easy prey!” Junoel said.

 

Steel smiled down at the nodding children, angry at having been used against the heirs. “I understand, children. They took us all by surprise.

         “The horses should be close,” Steel continued, and whistled. “Just frightened. If we can get the children on their backs, riding treble…”

 

“You go, fetch help,” Neal told his father.

 

“Be not silly, Neal! Any one of the children could ride for help…but I have called Tamlin and Shiral. Help will be here shortly.

         “Are any of you very cold, or at all hurt?” he asked the children.

 

“No!” they chorused, and about five added, “That was very exciting!”

 ........The rest agreed, standing away from the men’s legs now that everything was settled, telling each other what they thought and how it had looked, the noise level increased abruptly and the four adults just grinned weakly at each other! The horses came over, sniffing and walking gingerly on the smoking ground which was rapidly cooling as the snow fell and melted, absorbing heat as it did.

 

“I think the future of Steel Keep is in good hands!” Neal told the others.

 

_Thank God, the gentle, purest snow is covering the death, the sight of death, the stink of death!_

 

 

Very soon, it seemed, a large group of mounted Steel warriors appeared through the now swirling snow, spooking the horses a little. They were totally amazed, looking about at the area of destruction, then Leran said, “I think we need to get the children to warmth and safety – each can ride pillion. Lord, are you and your sons…”

 

“We are fine, Leran. Go ahead. We are none of us hurt, just…tired. Help the children and Sherran.”

 

“So I see, Lord Steel!” Leran said. “So I see! Did any of the enemy survive?”

 

The children were handed up one by one, and the horses departed. Only the older children, a few soldiers, Leran, Steel, Mozzie and Neal remained.

 

“They surrounded us, my Lord! They had the children at a distance so we could do nothing.” Neal was struggling to remain standing.

 

“And I hope we can believe them – they said they were all here to try and make sure we were dead. Then they would go on to other Earthlings. They wanted to kill all Earthlings,” Mozzie went on.

 

At that moment ten more soldiers arrived and all the children were taken up. The last rider was Tamlin. “I shall jump you home, you three, I know you are too weak - then come back for Dindol. Lira is waiting.”

 

“I shall wait for you here, Tamlin, with Dindol, and rest of the soldiers and I can count the bodies, see if there is anything to learn before the snow covers it all…” Leran agreed. “But – why did they want to kill all the Earthlings, Mozzie?”

 

“I think,” Mozzie told him, “that your Lord should have left one of them alive so you could ask him!”

 

The three gladly put hands on Tammy’s shoulders and let her jump. None of them felt able to concentrate well enough. They landed in the Greatroom and Sally ran up and hugged Mozzie, nearly knocking him to the floor.

 

“Place them on the couches and let me sing for them,” Lira said, patting Sally’s back gently. “They are exhausted, merely. Every cell has been emptied of all but the barest minimum for life. They will be quite well tomorrow.”

 

“I’m staying!” Sally insisted.

 

“Mmmph!” agreed Mozzie, even more fuzzy-minded now that he was relaxing. Sally hugged him tightly tears seeping from her eyes. “’S’allright, Sal!”

 

Then Lira started to sing, and all other sounds faded.

 

 

 

 

Neal opened his eyes. He was lovely and warm and relaxed. He wanted to stretch, but seemed…constrained. That woke him in a hurry – constrained was never a good look on a criminal… then he chuckled softly.

 

He was in a large, comfortable bed. He was up close to his father on the one side, and Litha, by some strange method probably known only to a Litha Laffay, was fast asleep, clutching his arm as though he might disappear. He raised his head – yep, they were lying on top of Steel’s huge bed, and on the other side Mozzie was book-ended by Sally!

 

_These are the times I **so** miss cameras and cell-phones! No-one will ever believe me if I paint this…even if my Lord allows me to do so!_

Litha stirred, opened those limpid eyes that captivated him every time and just smiled and snuggled down again. He turned carefully, not wanting to wake the others, and kissed her, a gentle touching of lips. She wriggled closer, which he wouldn’t have thought possible, and her fingers moved up the back of his head, sifting his rumpled curls, pulling him into the kiss. He groaned and she pulled back enough to say, tickling his lips, “You are going to marry me, Neal Caffrey Ellington-Steel.”

 

“Seduction,” he said, so softly that he was only sure she’d hear it through his soul, “is a four letter word.

         “And do this here, and in company, we seriously can _not!”_

She smiled and whispered, evilly, “Your choice…here and now, or later..?”

 

“Later, I think,” Steel hissed over Neal’s shoulder, making them both twitch guiltily.

 

“Er – how did we all get here?” Neal asked his father, wincing at a level of re-direct he would have scorned at eight. Or five! Three!

 

“I have no idea,” Steel said. “But it is lucky the bed is large!”

 

“I wouldn’t leave Mozzie, and Litha appeared and she wouldn’t leave Neal, and you three were all clumped together, Lira jumped you three here, and then the two of us,” Sally explained, apparently awake. “The beds in Neal and Mozzie’s suite are not finished yet.”

 

Mozzie woke at the sound of his love’s voice and hugged her.

 

“My fault this was not!” Neal said, delighted to have such a ready alibi. “Even though I am here in your suite again, my Lord.”

 

Steel gave him a Look. “One day, Neal, your luck will run out!”

 

“He has a massive supply!” Mozzie told him. “Things we have relied upon: My brains, Neal’s luck, Diana’s fighting skills, Peter’s gut - ”

 

“And my good nature!” Steel groaned.

 

“Why should you be concerned…?” Litha asked Neal.

 

“Oh, one day long, long ago, by accident, completely, which he understood, I – er – fell into this suite, and my Lord – I was still a slave at that point - threatened me with dire consequences if I ended up here without invitation again. But I was comatose and jumped here against my will, so be held accountable I can not!”

 

“Daddy Steel,” Litha said, leaning up on her elbow to look at him, sternly, “my husband is a grown man, even if a little shorter than average here, and is about to marry me. Spank him you can not!”

 

Mozzie gave a snort of delight, and Litha went on, thoughtfully, “At least not if I am not allowed to watch.”

 

“Arama _litha!”_ Neal spluttered, as Steel joined Mozzie in laughter.

 

“What?” Litha asked Neal.

 

“I agree. Litha’s right. I think that would be sexy,” Sally nodded, to Neal’s horror. “Not Mozzie, of course.”

 

“Why not Mozzie?” Neal demanded, feeling that varied forces were unexpectedly and very unfairly uniting against him.

 

“Mozzie has more dignity.”

 

Litha nodded, and Neal scowled and said, with un-Neal-like rancour, “Dignity! You should see him with a shower-cap, wanting to air dry on my terrace, or a toupee and goatee!”

 

“Now, now!” Mozzie chuckled.

 

Steel gently nudged Neal in the ribs with a knuckle and Neal folded. “Sorry, Moz. That was mean.”

 

Steel leaned close to Neal’s ear and said, “See, I have you so well trained, no need for anything more… strenuous!”

 

“Thank you, my Lord!” Neal told him, gathering _his_ slightly tattered dignity about him.

 

“Let us not lose sight of the main point,” Litha stated, calmly. “I am marrying you at the next gathering. I do not know all that happened, but you seem to live an interesting life, and I will not be widowed before I am wed, Neal!”

 

Neal groaned. “It is like fighting against continental drift with a badly-made, rusty automobile jack!” he said in English.

 

“So you will agree?” Litha demanded, her face lighting up. “How did you feel when you thought you would die without me? Tell me that everyone important you know has not been informed you can _not_ – they are all here!” She waved a graceful hand in a ballerina-like gesture.

 

“Do you want me to agree just because I am hunted?” Neal asked. “Others, with more resources, and possibly just as obstinate, have hunted me before!”

 

“Yes, but if I read you correctly, their plans for you were far less pleasant and enjoyable than mine!”

 

Neal closed his eyes, unable to hide a grin. “That is true. And life may be short, and all my reasons against it are based on old habits, not logic or feelings, Darling.”

 

“Good! Now – you are all well? And all the bad men are dead? It is then all settled.”

 

“I have some questions,” Mozzie said.

 

“Why am I not surprised?” Neal demanded, still smarting a little from the teasing…or whatever the _hell_ that had been!

 

“How did you get to us, Caerrovon?”

 

Steel shifted uneasily. “I am not sure. I do not even know how I knew you were threatened.”

 

“Brak said you just said something about there was no time, I assume to get help, and then you disappeared,” Sally said.

 

“You translated as the Chiri can?” Litha asked. “I did not realise – I thought only they could do it, but apparently the Tassin can, too? Is it because you are a Steel?”

 

Neal made a face at Mozzie, who was grinning like a gargoyle at him. “Um, Litha, some of us learned how after Lira translated us home to Earth. A – a friend wanted to come back to see me, and, Lira said his …love for me brought him back. She seems to think it is quite normal, and a few of us – including me and Mozzie and Tamlin, the Tassin you saw – we can do it, so long as we are jumping to something or someone we love. We have kept it a secret and would ask you to, as well.”

 

“So why translate away from the men that were going to kill you did you not?”

 

“They had the school children on a hill with several armed men who would kill some every time we did not as they instructed. Had we disappeared they may have carried out the threat to turn everyone against us: that we had left the children to a terrible fate. Risk the children we could not.”

 

“Evil bastards!” gasped Litha. “So you found out about translating by love because it was an emergency, Daddy Steel?”

 

“Litha, dear, especially if I am to see you often, do you think you could force yourself to call me Lord, Father, Caerrovon…? Or I certainly will not support a union that will definitely bring us close and often!” Lord Steel pleaded. She gurgled a laugh and nodded and he went on, “That must have been what happened. I have never done it before, or thought to do it.”

 

“Mother told me about the Steel Gift. From what the soldiers were saying, you must have it in its most powerful form,” Litha said, and Sally looked puzzled.

 

“Enough for now,” Neal said, stopping the unasked question. “I need to get up. Apart from everything else, I am starving! Why do you two girls not kindly go and organise food for us?”

 

“And talk weddings!” Sally smirked, and they got up, and, since their footwear was not by, left together on soft bare feet, a little crumpled, but looking beautiful enough to those who loved them.

 

“You are a far worse fugitive than I!” Mozzie told Neal, as they started to disentangle themselves from the bedclothes and get their limbs to work properly. “Firstly, you get chased! Then, you keep getting caught!”

 

“You look captured to me, Mozzie,” Steel noted, before Neal could do so.

 

Mozzie opened his mouth to argue and shrugged and smiled. “I was not so much captured as walked into the obvious trap willingly, very, _very_ willingly.”

 

“An excuse I shall borrow, Moz!” Neal agreed. “And – thank you, my Lord, for coming to our rescue at great personal risk! You had no idea what you were doing or into what you were translating.”

 

Steel looked a little bashful. “I am merely very grateful that we have experienced all that we have, or I would not, could not have done it. Plan it I did not, you understand, I just wanted to be with you, to help you…and your danger sparked the fire-angel, and then I felt yours leap to join mine! I have never _seen_ such destruction!”

 

“But it is intelligent destruction, though that sounds paradoxical!” Mozzie said, realising that the boots he sought were not in the room at all! “Our horses, the children, were all left untouched.”

 

“Oh, yes,” Steel nodded. “It destroys only my enemies – our enemies. It would be stupid to use a weapon that was indiscriminate!”

 

“One day, perhaps, we can explain that to Earthlings,” Mozzie said with a slight snort.

 

“They said all the enemies of the Earthlings were there? Therefore we are at a true end to this mystery?” Steel asked.

 

“We thought we were before, when we rooted out the flowers and their handlers! But this time I think we are at an end, my Lord,” Neal said, appearing from the bathroom.

 

“And Neal’s freedom also seems at an end,” Mozzie smiled. “If you are, in truth, going to marry Litha?”

 

Neal looked helpless. “I do not even know yet how she came to be here! She truly seems an unstoppable force. She leaves me breathless! Inside me I have no argument to the union, truly!”

 

Mozzie hugged his rather puzzled friend. “So, the mystery is ended, your running from emotional commitment is ended. A good place to stop the story, I think! Or at least this chapter! Now let us go and get some _food!”_

 

 

 

 

 

The End of Chapter 41 and this story in the Out of this World Series.

 

And yeah - comments welcome, and thank you all for those on the last chapter and Conspiracy 5.01!

 

 

 


	42. ADDITION: NOT A CHAPTER: GLOSSARY/APPENDIX for those who want it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For some of us who get muddled as to who lives where and who is he related to?...DEFINITELY NOT COMPLETE, don't want to add spoilers and will keep adding. Hopefully will remember to migrate it to the end 'chapter'.Characters first alphabetically, then in their Keeps with some extra info. Hey, this is happening on the fly, people! Hope it helps! Those who read a lot of sci fi and are happy to just go along with the story, you may find it more irritating than it's worth. Don't read!
> 
> Tell me if you like it, hate it, what...?

 Planet is called **Brethsham** (‘beautiful mother’ in Sheel). Inhabitants known collectively as Brethemen, though usually identified by their Keep affiliations.

Ruled by: King Jareldt of the House of Gulph. Heirs are Faroma, his daughter, and Sheldoq and Ferion, his sons.

 Senior Governing Council - Most Important and Powerful and Senior Lord Keepers on Brethsham, they are neded to affirm any major changes, such as the swearing in of the heirs to a Keep. Three are required at a Judgement Gathering, though if the 'accused' is a powerful man or woman at least 8 will attend.

**CHARACTERS ALPHABETICALLY**

Letters in brackets denote Armed Keep affiliation

(B) = Betchem

(C) = Camber

(L) = Laffaysham

(R) = Ruling Family

(St) = Steel

(St Sea) = Sea Keep (part of Steel)

(Su) = Sunder

~ means a Keep under the jurisdiction of an Armed Keep, not an Armed Keep unto itself (though they have guards and some warriors

Letters after entry give when we first heard of the character

OOTW = Out of this World

OOB = Out of Breath

 

 

 

Aldrana (St) Slave in the position of authority in overall administration of the Textile Industries at Steel (OOB)

 

Ambreth (B) oldest son of the Lord and Lady and heir to Betchem

 

Aramalitha (L+St) Distant younger cousin of Caerrovon (St) Strong Empath OOB

 

Aramathessia (L) Mother to Aramalitha.  Married to Lithatherian  OOB

 

Arem (St)  Engineer, Machinist and Inventor (TG)

 

Arms Master Leran (St) OOTW

 

Barstellon Laffay (L) Lord’s second son OOB

 

Bethy (C) Oldest daughter of Lord and Lady Camber OOTW

 

Brak (St) – Lord Steel’s man. Husband of Ophera OOTW

        

Burk (Su) – child OOB

 

Caerrovon Steel (St), without wife or issue Youngest sitting Lord-Keeper of the Alliance Keeps by about two   generations (remembering that their ‘generations’ are  long) OOTW

 

Captain Drdik – Military Captain   OOTW

 

Cara (St) daughter of Thista and Shimon

 

Caerralissia (L m St †) Former Lady of Steel, mother of Caerrovon, married to Toridlin (deceased) came from Laffaysham, so her son has inherited some of the empathy gift more common there. Deceased.

 

Dom (Dominic Shuster) (C) Slave, originally from Earth  OOB

 

Dran (St) farm worker OOTW

 

Edon (Su)  Precious metal worker making exquisite jewellery OOB

 

Embra (St) ) used to be a slave of Lord Steel but the Lord freed her and her husband   and set them up in a   metalwork business and they, in turn, make him beautiful, custom hand-crafted chain collars and do other metal work for Steel. Husband Tak OOTW

 

Eric (Su)  A slave we meet first at the Gathering, originally born in Australia. (TG)

 

Ethlan (B) youngest son of Lord Betchem, friend of Caerrovon of Steel. Has at least two sibs OOTW

 

Ethryon (L) Slave, originally from the west, in the damp and green country, but went into slavery at Camber OOB

 

Faroma of the House of Gulph (R) OOB

 

Ferion of the House of Gulph (R) OOB

 

Floretha (B) Daughter of Lord and Lady Betchem OOB

 

Gark (Su) lady-in-waiting to Lady Sunder OOB

 

Gestil (C) Tassin (telepathic communictor) at Camber (OOB)

 

Gert (St) warrior a little older than Lord Steel (OOB)

 

Grethyn  (B) Captain of Betchem Warriors, Arms Master. (TG)

 

Hereesh (C) Camber Librarian OOB     

 

Iftal, a Slave-Master at the Slave Market nearest Steel Keep and who sells slaves but does not capture them, and tends to treat them better than some other Slave Masters, and with whom Caerrovon deals more than most OOTW

 

Inya (St) farm worker, mother of Junoel OOTW

Irresect, A Slave-Master at the Slave Market nearest Steel Keep and who sells slaves but does not capture them. OOB

 

Jaffle (St) warrior a little older than Lord Steel (OOB)

Jarad (St Sea) – originally bought by Caerrovon Steel to be his man, became shield-mates and close friends before Steel put him in charge of Sea Keep when Jarad wished to marry. In line to inherit Steel. OOTW

 

Jebb (Su)– Lord Sunder’s second son. OOB

 

Jareldt of the House of Gulph, King (R) OOB

 

Jawl (St) Young boy bought by Caerrovon with his brother Shef at the time Caerrovon buys Jarad. He has been brutally used and dies shortly afterwards. (OOB)

Joster (St) – warrior OOTW

 

Junoel (St) dark child who likes Neal, mother is Inya OOTW

 

Kilt (Su) – child OOB

 

Kitran, also a Chiri like Lira, who found Lord Camber when his son had fallen into a rock crevasse. The Five Keeps call on these two Chiri because they can heal wounds and illness.      OOB

 

Klenalth (St), Master of the Horse OOTW

 

Lark (St) warrior, F, good archer, young OOB

 

Lashalashon (L) † artist of old, highly sought after, painted 'Entirety of Space', the painting Neal copied and moved when first at Steel Keep.

 

Leran (St) Arms Master

 

Lira Member of the Chiri, a mysterious race of beings about which very little is known. They seem to live on Brethsham but are so shy of contact that they are assumed to be a myth by most people living on the planet. Caerrovon, when he was younger, met Lira and she has helped him and Steel Keep since. OOTW

 

Listil,  A Chiri. Lira calls her a sister, but it is unclear whether that means blood-kin, friends or just of the same species. Listil is less communicative and travels further in space than does Lira. OOB

 

Lithalialista (L m B †) Foremer Lady Betchem, Married to Lord Thedlywin Betchem, mother of Lord Betchem, came from Laffaysham, and her son has inherited a great deal of the empathy gift more common there. Deceased.  OOB

 

Lithatherian (L) Father to Aramalitha. Married to Aramathessia. (OOB)

 

Lord Theldylyn and Lady Cara Betchem (B) Oldest Lord- and Lady-Keepers of the Alliance Keeps OOTW

 

Lord Braghlon and Lady Nerif Goren  (TG)

 

Lord Sherfel and Lady Camber (C) Young Lord- and Lady-Keepers by Alliance standards, only a generation older than Caerrovon of Steel. OOTW

 

Lord and Lady Laffay (L) OOB

 

Lord Jaffry and Lady Sunder (Su) OOB

 

Lord and Lady Trent (TG)

 

Lucilla (St) wardrobe mistress OOTW

 

Merritt (St) brother of Joster, warrior OOB

 

 Obrin (St) Sensitive half-Tassin warrior. OOB

 

Ophera (St) – wife of Brak, in charge of the kitchen and sometimes default Lady of the Keep, since Caerrovon has not taken to himself a wife OOTW

 

Sala (St) , the Lady of the Kitchen - the person in charge of the kitchen at Steel when Caerrovon is young. (OOB)

 

Sanjala (L) Slave at Laffaysham (OOB)

 

Shef (St) Young boy bought by Caerrovon with his brother Jawl at the time Caerrovon buys Jarad. He has been brutally used and dies shortly afterwards. (OOB)

Sheldoq of the House of Gulph (R) (OOB)

 

Sherran (St) Female teacher at Steel Keep (OOB)

 

Taft (B) Works on carriages OOB

 

Tallowet (St)  Engineer, Machinist and Inventor (TG)

 

Toridlin (St † ) Former Lord of Steel, Father of Caerrovon, married to Caerralissia. Deceased. (OOB)

 

Torkin (St) farm worker OOTW

 

Pey (St) warrior OOTW

 

Phrynee (C) Head of the cheese-making part of their dairy, with her husband.  OOB

 

Pila (St) Works with Lucilla ( also part of Steel’s band) OOTW

 

Prorva, (B) Lord Betchem’s granddaughter. OOB

 

Rethlethlyn (B) (†) Previous Lord Betchem, great great grandfather of Ethlan, reputed to haunt Betchem Keep

 

Rett (Su) Slave, Jebb's personal man OOB

 

Sealth (St)…child at school with Whim OOTW

 

Seramore (C)  Music teacher OOB

 

Serandon, (~St) Freeman owner of Serandon Keep, within Steel Keep’s Military protection, owner of slaves, killed before we meet him by Diana, and with good reason. The Freemen Keep-owners have less political clout than those who maintain an army, but Serandon has more than most because he is very rich (probably from dubious and evil sources, we feel!) and because he throws his weight around…or did… OOTW

 

Shelt (Su) – Lord Sunder’s daughter OOB

 

Sherdon  (C) Lord and Lady Camber's eldest son and heir OOB

 

Shereen (C) Daughter of Lord and Lady Camber OOB

 

Sherfel (C)  Lord Camber's given name OOB

 

Shimon (St) farm worker, betrothed to Thista OOTW

 

Shiral (St) – of a species called Tassin, often born with six fingers (five actual fingers and a thumb) per hand and six toes per foot and often, as in this case, with strong telepathic powers, which somewhat overlap, but are notthe same as, empathic powers…Tassin hears thoughts, empaths feel feelings. Is an important communication link for Lord Steel and also for reading the intent of businessmen with whom he deals. OOTW

 

Sonsharelitha (L) (†) Female artist of great renown, liked doing landscapes, animals and flowers, and still-life’s, but did portraits to cement alliances with Laffaysham. Painted a portrait of Caerrovon’s mother for his aunt. Deceased. OOB

 

Susan (C) Slave, originally from U.K., Earth OOB

 

Tak (St) used to be a slave of Lord Steel but the Lord freed him and his wife and set them up in a metalwork business and they, in turn, make him hand-crafted collars and do other metalwork for Steel. Wife Embra. OOTW

 

Tallk (Su) – Heir of Sunder OOB

 

Tamlin (St), of a species called Tassin, often born with six fingers (five actual fingers and a thumb) per hand and six toes per foot and often, as in this case, with strong telepathic powers, which somewhat overlap, but are notthe same as, empathic powers…Tassin hears thoughts, empaths feel feelings. Is an important communication link for Lord Steel and also for reading the intent of businessmen with whom he deals. Tamlin is the lover of Diana, of Earth. OOTW

Tembor (St) Sensitive warrior, Tassin blood OOB 

 

Thedlywin (B †) Former Lord Betchem, married to Lithalialista ( L †), father of the present Lord Betchem. Deceased. (OOB)

 

Thervessalon (L) First son of Lord and Lady Laffay and heir to Laffaysham OOB

 

Thista (St) farm worker, betrothed to Shimon OOTW

 

Tomn (St) warrior OOTW

 

Towan (B) Personal slave to Lord Betchem OOB

 

Tremalshal, (~St) elderly Freeman owner of Tremalshal Keep, within Steel Keep’s Military protection. OOTW

 

Trethwellian (L) Master Glassblower (TG)

 

Tron (St) warriors OOTW

 

Trop (St) Young slave, works in administration offices of the Textile Industries of Steel (OOB)

 

Valtin (Su) the librarian OOB

 

Welt (St) young archer OOB

 

Whim (St) young girl, works with Opera and Lucilla, but also   goes to school

 

Yana – young female slave (Su) OOB

 

Yat (St): older man who works in the kitchens and is in the Steel Band OOTW

 

Yorn (St) trainee warrior OOB

 

Zonta (St)works in the stables. OOTW

 

 

 

LISTINGS WITH ARMED KEEP AFFILIATIONS...SORT OF...

 

Planet is called **Brethsham** (‘beautiful mother’ in Sheel)

 

 **Government Buildings** called The Houses of Government or The House for short. OOTW

 

 **The Military** : The army that can be sent out by this government are merely called ‘the Military’ and are made up of a rag-taggle bunch of men, some of dubious ability and repute with varying degrees of discipline. Slaves and businessmen and ‘average’ people fear them, as they often follow their own rules. They tend to be used only in situations where a nobleman or a very rich freeman has been victimised, or for some wide-spread problem that overlaps the jurisdiction of the Armed Keeps. The government are aware of their failings but they are used seldom. Normal ‘law enforcement’ falls to the Lord-Keepers who maintain an army (the Armed Keeps), and varies from area to area, both the laws and the enforcement of them. OOTW

 

 **Earthlings** that are part of this history, brought here as slaves: Neal Caffrey (probably alias), Peter Burke, June Ellington, Diana Berrigan, Clinton Jones, Elizabeth Burke. OOTW

Eric (a slave at Sunder), Mac, Melissa, Adam, Dwight, Phil, Derek, Mike, Freda, Abby and Andrew- Earthling ex-slaves or guests of slaves that we meet for the first time on Christmas day, going riding with Neal (TG)

Joey, Chuck or Andrew - pianist at The Gathering, savant or with brain damage from the wars, brilliant on the piano, but suffering from amnesia about many things, including his name.

Earthling stowaway who came with them Mozzie (further details unknown. Certainly an alias.) OOTW

THESE EARTHLINGS ARE AT PRESENT CLAIMED TO BE OWNED BY JEFF EASTIN, PLANET EARTH.  (We should buy them! We know they're priceless, but...does **he?** Really?)

 

 **Cortican Standard** – pidgin language of various dialects and languages, lingua franca, low mongrel language used by Slavers and Hounds. OOTW

 

 **Sheel** : language spoken usually by all at the Seven Armed Keeps, though most know some Standard. Very formal language known as High Sheel. OOTW

 

 

 

Main Seven Keeps, and their Lords and Ladies, from their Alliance during the Keep Wars:

 

 **Steel Keep,** Lord and Lady Steel – present Lord Caerrovon

Steel, younger by two generations than most other sitting Lords, (more than that of any of the Alliance Keeps) and unmarried. Steel Keep is smaller than any of the other five, not able to expand further because of the City of Steel, and the lands of Betchem and Laffaysham Keeps that border it, which is why the present Lord Caerrovon’s great-grandfather established Sea Keep on the other side of a steep and challenging range of mountains, which gives them a sea-port as well as other benefits.

 

Steel’s crest of two crossed swords, a crown, two horses and some foliage and flowers painted on a low‑relief carving. Silver on bright, deep blue, Steel’s colours.

 

 

 **Laffaysham Keep** , Lord and Lady Laffay. Large Keep with a great deal of land, rivers, forests, mineral deposits, including coal. Borders Steel and Betchem in parts.

Crest : Intertwining Flowering Vine around Crown, attended by bees.  Colours: Amethyst, Blue-violet and Silver

 

 

 **Betchem Keep** , Lord and Lady Betchem. Large Keep with mostly hardwood forests. Borders Steel and Laffay in parts.

 

Crest: Spreading tree with crown over top. Colours: Forest green and gold.

 

 

 

 **Camber Keep** , Lord and Lady Camber

Crest: Scythe cutting a sheaf of grain surmounted by a crown.

Colours Gold on Cream, picked out with black

 

 **Sunder Keep** Lord and Lady Sunder

Crest: An anvil with a sword across it, being struck by a hammer, a crown above. Colours black and white on rich brown, Crown gold.

**Goren Keep** , Lord and Lady Goren…still deals with the Close 5, but less involved with the Alliance than during the Keep Wars.

Crest: Helmet and Chariot, crown above both

Colours: Apricot and Bitter-chocolate brown, crown in gold.

 

 **Trent Keep** , Lord and Lady Trent …still deals with the Close 5, but less involved with the Alliance than during the Keep Wars.

Crest: Seven horizontal silver lines with five silver mice playing on them, Silver crown above. Black field.

Colours: Black and Silver.

 

 

 

**Steel Keep:**

Caerrovon Steel (St), without wife or issue Youngest sitting Lord-Keeper of the Alliance Keeps by about two   generations (remembering that their ‘generations’ are long) OOTW

 

 Caerralissia (L m St †) Former Lady of Steel, mother of Caerrovon, married to Toridlin (deceased) came from Laffaysham, so her son has inherited some of the empathy gift more common there. Deceased.

 Toridlin (St † ) Former Lord of Steel, Father of Caerrovon, married to Caerralissia. Deceased. (OOB)

 

Brak (St) – Lord Steel’s man OOTW

Ophera (St) – wife of Brak, in charge of the kitchen and sometimes default Lady of the Keep, since Caerrovon has not taken to himself a wife,.

Sala (St) , the Lady of the Kitchen - the person in charge of the kitchen at Steel when Caerrovon is young. Ophera is then a mere kitchen slave who bakes great pies! (OOB)

 

Yat (St): older man who works in the kitchens and is in the Steel Band OOTW

 

Arms Master Leran (St) OOTW

 

Gert (St) warrior a little older than Lord Steel (OOB)

Jaffle (St) warrior a little older than Lord Steel (OOB)

Joster (St) – warrior OOTW

Lark (St) warrior, F, good archer, young OOB

Merritt (St) brother of Joster, warrior OOB

Obrin (St) Sensitive half-Tassin warrior. OOB

Pey (St) warrior OOTW

Tembor (St) Sensitive warrior, Tassin blood OOB

Tomn (St) warrior OOTW

Tron (St) warriors OOTW

Welt (St) young archer OOB

Yorn (St) trainee warrior OOB

 

Klenalth (St), Master of the Horse OOTW

Zonta (St)works in the stables. OOTW

 

Arem (St)  Engineer, Machinist and Inventor (TG)

Tallowet (St)  Engineer, Machinist and Inventor (TG)

 

 Sherran (St) Female teacher at Steel Keep (OOB)

 

Lucilla (St) wardrobe mistress OOTW

Pila (St) Works with Lucilla ( also part of Steel’s band) OOTW

Whim (St) young girl, works with Opera and Lucilla, but also goes to school. OOTW

Sealth (St)…child at school with Whim OOTW

 

 

 

Tamlin (St), of a species called Tassin, often born with six fingers (five actual fingers and a thumb) per hand and six toes per foot and often, as in this case, with strong telepathic powers, which somewhat overlap, but are notthe same as, empathic powers…Tassin hears thoughts, empaths feel feelings. Is an important communication link for Lord Steel amd also for reading the intent of businessmen with whom he deals.

Tamlin is the lover of Diana, of Earth. OOTW

 

Shiral (St) – same as Tamlin, without the Diana link. OOTW

 

Junoel (St) dark child who likes Neal, mother is Inya OOTW

 

Inya (St) farm worker, mother of Junoel OOTW

Dran (St) farm worker OOTW

Torkin (St) farm worker OOTW

 

Thista (St) farm worker, betrothed to Thista OOTW

Shimon (St) farm worker, betrothed to Thista OOTW

 

Aldrana (St) Slave in the position of authority in overall administration of the Textile Industries at Steel (OOB)

Trop (St) Young slave, works in administration offices of the Textile Industries of Steel (OOB)

Jawl (St) Young boy bought by Caerrovon with his brother Shef at the time Caerrovon buys Jarad. He has been brutally used and dies shortly afterwards. (OOB)

Shef (St) Young boy bought by Caerrovon with his brother Jawl at the time Caerrovon buys Jarad. He has been brutally used and dies shortly afterwards. (OOB)

 

Tak (St) used to be a slave of Lord Steel but the Lord freed him and his wife and set them up in a metalwork business and they, in turn, make him hand-crafted collars and do other metalwork for Steel. Wife Embra. OOTW

 

Embra (St) ) used to be a slave of Lord Steel but the Lord freed her and her husband   and set them up in a   metalwork business and they, in turn, make him beautiful, custom hand-crafted chain collars and do other metal work for Steel. Husband Tak OOTW

 

Iftal, a Slave-Master at the Slave Market nearest Steel Keep and who sells slaves but does not capture them, and tends to treat them better than some other Slave Masters, and with whom Caerrovon deals more than most OOTW

 

Irresect, A Slave-Master at the Slave Market nearest Steel Keep and who sells slaves but does not capture them. OOB

Captain Drdik – Military Captain   OOTW

 

Serandon, (~St) Freeman owner of Serandon Keep, within Steel Keep’s Military protection, owner of slaves, killed before we meet him by Diana, and with good reason. The Freemen Keep-owners have less political clout than those who maintain an army, but Serandon has more than most because he is very rich (probably from dubious and evil   sources, we feel!) and because he throws his weight around…or did… OOTW

 

Tremalshal, (~St) elderly Freeman owner of Tremalshal Keep, within Steel Keep’s Military protection. OOTW

 

 

 

 **Sea Keep** (St) subsidiary of Steel, by the sea and separated from the main Steel Keep by a small range of rocky mountains. Most of the horse breeding and initial strength and obedience training of the horses of Steel is done there. OOTW

 

Jarad (St Sea) – originally bought by Caerrovon Steel to be his man, became shield-mates and close friends before Steel put him in charge of Sea Keep when Jarad wished to marry. OOTW

 

 

 

**Laffaysham Keep**

Lord and Lady Laffay (L)

Barstellon Laffay (L) Lord’s second son

 

Aramalitha (L) Distant younger cousin of Caerrovon (St) Strong Empath

 

Aramathessia (L) Mother to Aramalitha.  Married to Lithatherian  OOB

 

Ethryon (L) Slave, originally from the west, in the damp and green country, but went into slavery at Camber

 

Lithatherian (L) Father to Aramalitha. Married to Aramathessia. (OOB)

 

Sanjala (L) Slave at Laffaysham (OOB)

 

Sonsharelitha (L) (†) Female artist of great renown, liked doing landscapes, animals and flowers, and still-life’s, but did portraits to cement alliances with Laffaysham. Painted a portrait of Caerrovon’s mother for his aunt. OOB

 

Thervessalon (L) First son of Lord and Lady Laffay and heir to Laffaysham OOB

 

Trethwellian (L) Master Glassblower (TG)

 

**Camber Keep:**

Lord and Lady Camber (C) Young Lord and Lady by Alliance standards, only about two generations older than Caerrovon of Steel.

Bethy (C) Oldest daughter of Lord and Lady Camber OOTW

 

Dom (C) Slave, originally from U.S.A., Earth    OOB

 

Gestil (C) Tassin telepathic communicator OOB

 

Hereesh (C) Librarian OOB

 

Phrynee (C) Head of the cheese-making part of their dairy, with her husband.OOB

 

Sherdon (C) Lord and Lady Camber's eldest son and heir OOB

 

Shereen (C) Daugher of Lord and Lady Camber   OOB

 

Sherfel (C)  Lord Camber's given name OOB

 

Sue (C) Slave, originally from U.K., Earth   OOB

 

 

 

 

**Betchem Keep**

Lord and Lady Betchem (B) Oldest Lord and Lady-Keepers of the Alliance Keeps

 

Ambreth (B) oldest son of the Lord and Lady and heir to Betchem

 

Ethlan (B) – youngest son of Lord Betchem, friend of Caerrovon of Steel Has at least two sibs OOTW

 

Floretha (B) Daughter of Lord and Lady Betchem OOB

 

Grethyn  (B) Captain of Betchem Warriors (TG)

 

Lithalialista (L m B †) Foremer Lady Betchem, Married to Lord Thedlywin Betchem, mother of Lord Betchem, came from Laffaysham, and her son has inherited a great deal of the empathy gift more common there. Deceased.  OOB

 

Newan (B) OOB

 

Prorva, Lord Betchem’s grandaughter. OOB

 

Rethethlyn, (B) (†) Former Lord of Betchem, great, great-grandfather of Ethlan, reputed to haunt Betchem Keep

 

Taft (B) Works on carriages

 

Thedlywin (B †) Former Lord Betchem, married to Lithalialista ( L †), father of the present Lord Betchem. Deceased. (OOB)

 

Towan (B) Personal slave to Lord Betchem OOB

 

 

 

**Sunder Keep**

Lord  Jaffry and Lady Sunder (Su) OOB

 

Tallk (Su) – Heir of Sunder OOB

 

Jebb (Su)– Lord Sunder’s second son. OOB

 

Eric (Su)  A slave we meet first at the Gathering, originally born in Australia. (TG)

 

Gark (Su) lady-in-waiting to Lady Sunder OOB

 

Rett (Su) Slave, Jebb's personal man OOB

 

Shelt (Su) – Lord Sunder’s daughter OOB

 

Yana – young female slave (Su) OOB

 

Burk (Su) – child OOB

 

Kilt (Su) – child OOB

 

Valtin (Su) the librarian OOB

 

Edon (Su)  Precious metal worker making exquisite jewellery OOB

 

 

 

Lira Member of the Chiri, a mysterious race of beings about which very little is known. They seem to live on Bethsham but are so shy of contact that they are assumed to be a myth by most people living on the planet. Caerrovon, when he was younger, met Lira and she has helped him and Steel Keep since. OOTW

Kitran, also a Chiri like Lira, who found Lord Camber when his son had fallen into a rock crevasse. The Five Keeps call on these two Chiri because they can heal wounds and illness. OOB

 

Listil,  A Chiri. Lira calls her a sister, but it is unclear whether that means blood-kin, friends or just of the same species. Listil is less communicative and travels further in space than does Lira. OOB

 


End file.
